


I Told You So

by TheForgottenDreams



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gunshot Wounds, Happy Ending, I don't know a lot about bodyguards so it's basically my imagination and the film, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining Enjolras, Pining Grantaire, Sad Back Stories, Self-Defense, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenDreams/pseuds/TheForgottenDreams
Summary: It didn’t read like the worst job Grantaire would ever have when he was handed the information packet - as thick as the rims of the glasses won by the hipster sat mooning over his MacBook and coffee. It sounded quite nice, easier than his last job, though that had sounded like a nice job at the time.  Maybe that should have tipped him off. It seemed easy though – and Cosette had agreed when he’d consulted her, after he’d gotten Bahorel’s blessing of course and made Musichetta run through all the statistics – as simple as A, B, C. Which, relevant, since that was part of the name of his protectee’s little club. -A Bodyguard AU





	1. He's Your Bodyguard

“Hi, I’m Grantaire and your over protective best friend hired me to literally stand in front of any bullets that may come your way.” He shook his head, hit his cheek with the palm of his hand and stared into the mirror again. “Heya, I’m the guy your best friend hired to make sure you aren’t killed. No, come on R, what about? Hey, how you doin’? Feeling like you’ve receive numerous death threats? Well, have no fear, your bodyguard is here.”

“Have no fear, your bodyguard is here? Really ‘Taire?” the familiar lilting voice of his roommate, fellow close protection officer and best friend from the age of four, filled his bedroom as her blonde head poked around his door, face like a tourist attraction and hair a cornfield. Sometimes he hated having extraordinarily attractive friends but then he remembered they were complete goofballs and put up with him and his mood swings so he got over it pretty damn quickly.

“How do I introduce myself to Apollo?” He asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror, “Have you seen this guy’s face, Cosette, I’m pretty sure the angels came down from heaven and sculpted it themselves.”

“Believe it or not, I have from the hundreds of times you’ve shoved his picture in my face, asking if he’s real.” She slunk into his room, long hair swishing as she settled on his bed, curling her long legs underneath her, like an oversized cat. Grantaire had always liked cats.

“I want to make a good impression. I have to accompany this guy everywhere for the next few months, to make sure he’s not ambushed.” Grantaire told her, flopping onto his bed and turning his head to look at her, “It’s awful when you don’t get along with whoever needs protecting, you know that.”

“I do.” She nodded, laying on her side, facing him.

“And I’ve read his blog, all his beliefs are so naïve.” Grantaire told her, “He’s misguided, deluded by his idea of this perfect world, he’s practically the opposite of me and we both know what I’m like, I’ll fuck it up and argue with him or something like that.”

“Maybe. But you can be kind, don’t forget that. I wouldn’t have been friends with you for all these years if you were a complete dickhead.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Key word being ‘complete’.” He sighed, “I think this might be a mistake, I don’t think I’m ready. I don’t know why Valjean approved.”

“Because Papa knows you, he knows you can put your personal beliefs aside to focus on your job and he knows you’re more than ready and qualified to start work again, R you’re ready. Plus, you said the girl genuinely wanted your help.” Cosette pointed out.

“She didn’t seem like the type of person to be easily spooked either, not with all the leather and eyeliner and hair.” Grantaire nodded, thinking back to the meeting in the café. It has been An Experience.

The way the girl had moved and talked oozed hardship and tragedy – since his job was to analyse people to see their weaknesses, advantages and if they’d be a threat, he knew immediately she’d overcome something awful. Because of that she’d seemed really inspirational and quite frankly fucking badass, he could see himself becoming good friends with her. So he’d listen to her, noted the terror in her voice as she explained the situation, the way her hands shook as she had given him the notes, the letters, the death threats, the way she stared intently as he said he’d get back to her about it after consulting his boss.

“You’re not a bad judge of character.” Cosette told him, “Trust your instinct.”

“But what if it’s wrong, we all know what happened last time.” Grantaire told her, vision blurring and whoa, not fucking good at all.

“It wasn’t your fault, ‘Taire.” Cosette said, taking his hand, her eyes impossibly soft, she pulled him towards her and hugged him, “You can’t go thinking it is, because it isn’t and she wouldn’t want you to.”

“I know, but I miss her.” He whispered.

“I know.” She replied, pushing him away and sitting up, “I do too. But we can’t dwell on her, she wouldn’t want that and if she were here right now, she’d kick your arse, make you get up, probably slap you for being self-depreciating all while finding you a killer outfit, sorting your mess of hair and coming up with the best one liner for you to say when you meet your new protectee.”

“It’s true.” He sighed.

“Come on, stop criticising yourself, you’re awesomely talented, funny and kind, plus, I love you as do the others.” She hit him lightly on the side of the head and got up, offering him a hand and pulling him upwards. He groaned in response but got up, a timid smile on his face, “I’ll find you something to wear and we’ll come up with an introduction together, okay?”

He looked at her before his smile grew and she beamed back at him, “Okay.”

-

 

In the end, Grantaire didn’t need to practise his introduction, because Éponine, the girl who had hired him, had waited outside La Café Musain – a favourite base for his protectee’s social justice campaign and one his friends said was quite off the beaten track and unknown by the press. She saw him, eyes glinting in the setting sun and grabbed his arm, hauling him inside roughly and with more strength than her five foot nothing stature would have you think.

“Thank you for accepting this job.” She glanced back at him, looking at him from underneath her beanie and side fringe. “It honestly means everything right now, to all of us.”

“It’s a job and from what I’ve researched and read in those notes to him, he needs all the protection he can get.” He answered, honestly, this guy was a walking target begging for a bullseye.

“The last few guys we asked were complete dickheads and refused to take us seriously, they thought it was all faked.” She said, pulling him through the throngs of people towards the backroom. She nodded towards a few of the waitresses as they went. “They laughed in my face.”

“Well, that’s just unprofessional.” He frowned.

“I fucking know.” She growled, stomping up the stairs like thunder in a storm. He followed, until she stopped right in her tracks and turned to him, eyes glassy and mouth turned down, “Look Grantaire, the people you’re about to meet, they’re all a bit weird and nerdy but I’m actually emotionally attached to them and like I guess they’re my family and he’s been my best friend for a long time, he’s like my brother, we’ve been through so much and I can’t lose him, I can’t lose any of them. So please, please do your best.”

“I’ll try and if I think you guys need more protection I have friends that will help, there are things I can teach you all to make you all more aware.” Grantaire told her, not moving in for a hug, because he didn’t want to risk bodily harm and she looked exactly like the kind of girl who would kick him in the balls for even looking at her and he didn’t need to actively put that pain in his life. Well, despite his job. Instead he took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

She squeezed back, her eyes blinking up at him, full of desperation and hope and trust that yanked at Grantaire’s heart and fuck no, “Thank you, thank you so much.”

Her doe eyes disappeared under her eyelashes quickly and he nodded in reply, pressing his lips together tightly. She then dropped his hand, but grabbed his arm and pulled him into the brightly lit room, to which he had to blink at the sudden light change because that corridor was dark as.

“Ooh, fresh meat!” Someone called and Grantaire wasn’t sure who, but he placed his bets on the over-excited brunet with pink highlights in his hair who currently looked like a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

“‘Ponine?” The guy next to him, with glasses and beautiful cheekbones asked. Did Grantaire really have to befriend yet more attractive people? Weren’t his own friends enough?

“He’s the one I told you about.” She answered, smiling proudly, dark eyes holding a glint that Grantaire couldn’t even guess to the meaning of and he didn’t want to know, well probably didn’t want to know.

“Enjolras’ bodyguard?” A bald man who only looked to be in his twenties grinned, a guy with auburn hair sat next to him, furiously scribbling something down in a notebook with his tongue sticking out slightly. And freckles, he had a ton of freckles. Grantaire liked freckles on people.

“He’s not Kevin Costner.” Pink highlights piped up again, “But he is hot in that lumberjack way.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’ve realised, but I am here, in the room, you don’t have to speak like I’m not and I do have a name, it’s not anything lumberjack related.” Grantaire said because fuck this being discussed when he could hear everything said, “And, I’m a close protection officer anyway, bodyguards are kind of a slang term.”

“I like him already.” Highlights grinned, getting up and holding out a hand, “I’m Courfeyrac.”

“Grantaire.”

“This guy with glasses is Combeferre,” Courfeyrac gestured to the guy who had been sitting next to him, Combeferre nodded in response, eyes watching Courfeyrac’s every move, “Then we have Bossuet, the bald one and then Feuilly. You’ve met Éponine, but the freckly guy running up the stairs now should be Marius.”

Right on cue, Marius burst into the room, face enflamed with blood, breathing like he’d run ten miles, hunched over, hands on his knees. Beside him, Éponine made as if to move forward to Marius’ side, but pulled herself back. He noted that in his brain. He also noted Combeferre’s interest in Courfeyrac in his brain too.

“What’s wrong?” Combeferre asked, but Grantaire was already, at the door, knife hidden by his hoodie but in his hand in case he had to defend these people, as he looked around the frame for any danger, a pursuer of some sort. There was no one.

“Nothing… held behind… professor… ran here…” Marius puffed through his words. Grantaire frowned but moved away, putting his knife back into place, he returned to Éponine’s side, the girl staring at him with something like, well not wonder but she seemed impressed.

“Pontmercy, this is Grantaire,” Courfeyrac cheered, putting an arm around Marius, forcing him upright and turning him towards Grantaire. “He’s Enjy’s close protection officer and a competent one based on that reaction.”

“I’m not new to the business.” Grantaire replied. “Where’s Enjolras?”

“Right here.” A voice spoke behind him. He turned and holy shit, holy shit this man was more attractive in real life than in his picture. Curling blond hair that fell just past his ears, big silver eyes, red skinny jeans contrasting his black t-shirt, a face, lips, a nose, arms, legs. Everything Grantaire could ever want in a person. He snapped his mouth shut when Éponine jabbed him in the ribs and muttered something about flies and the wind changing. “Who are you?”

“Grantaire.” He supplied, “I’m your new close protection officer.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard.” Enjolras rolled his eyes, walking into the room, dumping his bag on the table, next to Combeferre, in front of the window. Grantaire could already see the various situations in which an attacker could strike. God he was begging for someone to come and shoot him.

“Bodyguard is a slang term.” Courfeyrac quipped, grinning at Grantaire which made him smile due to its infectious quality and also the fact he could tell they would be fast friends.

“Lamarque says otherwise, you know she has two bodyguards because she actually understands that she needs to be safe so she can make a difference in the world. Plus, the death threats you’ve been getting just support her.” Combeferre countered, looking at Enjolras with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, so point one, she’s more important that I am and an actual government official, second point, the letters are just someone trying to scare us or some kids using it as a prank. Apparently, they’re working on you.” Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him.

“Oh right, so the ambush last week is a coincidence, as is that bottle being thrown at your head, the person you thought was tailing you home and the creepy purple roses on your desk at work.” Éponine fired back, hands on her hips, jaw set and eyes full of fire. Yes, Grantaire could really see her becoming his friend.

“Exactly.” The blond fought back.

“I really need more information on this. But start with the attack.” Grantaire told her.

“Last week Enjy and I were walking home from the meeting and this pair sort of appeared from this alleyway and started yelling at us. We carried on but they caught up to us and if I hadn’t been there Enjolras would have been beaten up or put in hospital.” She told him, mouth set and fists clenched, clearly this had been a reoccurring argument. Grantaire didn’t need training in heightening observance for that.

“You put yourself in danger by punching them, Éponine, I can’t have people doing that for me.” Enjolras exclaimed. “I won’t have yours or anyone else’s blood on my hands, I can look after myself.”

“You can have them protecting you if it’s their job.” Grantaire offered. Enjolras turned his withering look onto Grantaire and he stared back, just as defiantly - he was nothing if not stubborn.

“Exactly.” Éponine said, smiling smugly. “Enjolras, I can’t lose you, Gav’ can’t, none of the people here can. So please accept the help, because you’re in danger and something is going to happen, I can feel it. But we can stop it. Grantaire can stop it, if only you’ll let him.”

“I don’t want anyone getting hurt for me, I don’t care who, if it’s my life long best friend, her siblings or a stranger I don’t know.”

“So you assume I’m so bad at my job that I’d get hurt instead of incapacitating whoever attacks you and actually hurting them. Éponine, is that not prejudice?” Grantaire cocked a hip and raised an eyebrow. He was aware he held all their attention, but if he was right, this would pay off.

“I believe it is.” She replied, eyeing him with a mixed look in her eye. He could relate, he wasn’t really sure where he was going with this either, but that seemed to be the story of his fucking life.

“And, Combeferre, isn’t Enjolras supposed to be against prejudice?”

“He is, we all are.” Combeferre nodded, eyes turning to Grantaire. God, he looked like he would give great hugs. “That’s one of the basic principles of Les Amis D’ABC.”

“So, Enjolras, until you’ve seen me in action, you can’t judge me.” Grantaire told him, “I suggest you let me protect you. If I get hurt, then you can say ‘I told you so’ and I’ll find someone else to take over. Someone who definitely won’t get hurt.”

Enjolras stared at him, jaw set. Éponine just looked at him, a suggestion of a smile on her face. Courfeyrac was staring at Grantaire with wide eyes and even, Bossuet was trying to hide a smirk. Grantaire assumed Enjolras wasn’t used to having someone stand up to him.

“And, actually by not having my help, your friends are more likely to get hurt. I’m not just supposed to stay with you for most hours of the day, my protection reaches to your friends, there are classes in self-defence I can teach, general precautions no one thinks of and if I need to, I can bring in a team of other close protection officer’s for your friends.” Grantaire told him and Enjolras stared back, a strange expression on his face, “As long as I work with you, both you and your friends have to be safe, or else I’m not doing my job.”

“Plus I already paid him for a month’s worth of work.” Éponine added.

“’Ponine, why? You have Gav’ and you needed a new oven, you shouldn’t waste your money on me.” Enjolras exclaimed, anger and affection mixing in his voice, a contrast as evident as the one between Éponine and Enjolras. Their heights, their colourings, their temperaments.

“You’re so dumb. Your safety is worth more than a new cooker, especially when the one I have right now works, sort of.” She told him, eyes soft. “I’d sell my kidneys and work at a strip club if it meant keeping you safe, and I’m not the only one.”

“She’s right.” Feuilly said, the others shook their heads in agreement, “We’d all do it without hesitation.”

“I’d never ask you to do that, any of you.” Enjolras told them.

“I know, but we’d do it anyway because you’re our friend and we just can’t lose you.” Combeferre told him.

“Look, Enjolras,” Bossuet said, “The way I see it, you can either do this willingly and make it easier on all of us, or you can kick up a fuss and make an issue. Either way, Grantaire is going to do his job whether you like it or not.”

“Please Enjolras, please.” Éponine said, voice softer and full of more emotion than Grantaire would assume of her. Then he mentally slapped himself for judging her.

“Fine, but I’m paying you back.” Enjolras told her.

Éponine grinned and high-fived Grantaire and the others were in varying degrees of surprise and celebration. The room swelled with love and Grantaire smiled to himself, knowing he would lay down his life to protect these people, they were a family, dysfunctional maybe, but they were like his own little group. Accepting him warmly and without hesitation, like they were meant to have met. Maybe in another life or another world, he’d have found them of his own accord, maybe he’d have called them his own family. Maybe, just maybe.

 

-

 

“Gods, you do have a death wish don’t you?” Grantaire shook his head as he barged past Enjolras into the blond’s apartment, said owner of apartment blinking at him in stunned silence.

It was exactly how Grantaire expected it. Neat, tidy and full of books. Actually he hadn’t anticipated the balcony with the floaty, kind of transparent curtains – like out of some kind of black and white French romance films - or the many corkboards covered with photos of Enjolras and his friends. But the furniture was all simple, monochrome with one accent colour to tie it all together – it was red obviously – nice and stylish.

But there was a kind of sad air to it all, like it wasn’t used enough and Grantaire guessed so much so when he’d read Enjolras’ file, he lived alone, no partner, only his friends and work colleges seeing him regularly. It was tragic considering how attractive Enjolras was. Though it did make Grantaire’s work easier.

“Why?” Enjolras asked as he shut the door, still with that dazed look in his eyes.

“You have a peep hole, use it to check whose knocking at your door. What if I’d been a stranger with a gun? Or a seemingly old lady who was actually a master assassin?” Grantaire asked, wandering around the room. First rule of bodyguard school: assess everything.

“I’d have slammed the door shut.” Enjolras replied.

“On an old lady? Harsh.” Grantaire raised is eyebrows.

“But if she was trying to kill me?”

“Yeah, yeah, use that as an excuse to be heartless.” Grantaire waved a dismissive hand, “What would you do after that?”

“Lock the door, call Combeferre, try to get out I guess.” Enjolras told him, a crease between his eyebrows. It was adorable he was thinking about it so hard.

“They have a gun, a lock isn’t going to stop them if they really wanted to kill you or get in your apartment. They’d trace the call to Combeferre and nab him too, climbing from the window is a no go because the height and also you’re tall so you’d probably get stuck. If you did get out, you’d have to run and if you’re not trained it’ll be hard putting enough distance between you and them – adrenalin only does so much.” Grantaire rolled his eyes, wandering over to the sofa, he crumpled onto it, picking up a pillow to fluff up.

“I can run, you’re forgetting all the riots I’ve accidentally caused and fled from when the police turned up and I jog.” Enjolras smirked and it really wasn’t a victory to be proud of but Enjolras was clearly pleased with himself as he went and sat on one of the arm chairs, long legs curled up underneath him.

“Sorry, your file forgot to mention that you’re Usain Bolt.” Grantaire shot back, sarcasm so thick Enjolras sat and glared at him, though there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. “Rule number one: when answering the door, you either let me do it or you use the spy hole thing, okay? And if you don’t know them, don’t open it. I don’t care if it’s a pack of nuns or the pizza delivery guy, you will not open the door.”

“Fine.” Enjolras sighed. “Why’re you here?”

“To do my job.” Grantaire answered, he laid out on the sofa, looking at Enjolras from upside-down. Hmm, he was no less beautiful like that. “We have a meeting later right?”

“I do, you don’t.” Enjolras frowned, sitting on one of the arm chairs.

“I thought we discussed this. You were going to let me do my job and if I get hurt you’re going to say ‘I told you so’ Grantaire raised an eyebrow, looking at the blond, laying out a challenge. “That means following you through everyday life, blending in, training you in self-defence, helping your friends, protecting you, planning routes, assessing hazards and whatever.”

“I didn’t think you were starting straight away.” Enjolras stared at him, disbelief on his face. It made him look dumber, dulling the intelligence in the blond’s eyes. It wasn’t necessarily a bad look for the blond, but Grantaire got the impression it didn’t happen all that often.

“Obviously I am, you’re in danger, you need protection.” Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking any chances.”

Enjolras looked at him for a little while then sucked a breath in, “Fine, whatever.”

“Good, then it’s settled.” Grantaire smiled, “What’re we talking about this meeting?”

 

-

 

“Cosette, it’s hopeless, he’s too idealistic and hot to be real.”

“Please tell me you didn’t fight with him.”

“I just pointed out where he was going wrong, we debated, no one yelled, he seemed quite encouraged – I think slash am hoping. He’s so golden, he must literally be a descendant of Apollo.”

“Oh my God, R.”

“No, he wasn’t like angry, he seemed determined to make me see the light or whatever.”

“Well, that’s good then.”

“He’s too hot to be real and he sings in the shower.”

“Please tell me you’re not sat listening to him right now.”

“We’re going to a meeting and he wanted to shower before it.”

“You’re so creepy and weird.”

“I’m cool and awesome. I’m not going to do anything. I’d never have a romantic or sexual relationship with a protectee… again.”

“I know.”

“Alright, well he’s getting out the shower because he stopped singing, we’ve got a meeting, see you whenever ‘Sette.”

“Bye, R.”

 

-

 

“Rule number two: Don’t sit in front of windows or doors.” Grantaire spoke. “Do you want to die?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Enjolras asked, hands on his hips and eyebrows raised, looking every bit like a child on the verge of a tantrum. He’d simply rolled his eyes and walked to his usual spot when Grantaire had asked him to wait whilst the brunet searched the room.

“Are you stupid? It makes it ridiculously easy to shoot you in the back of the head – you’d never even see it coming - the building opposite has a prime snipper location or someone could push you out of it.” Grantaire told him, “Smash it and stab you with the glass, one of your friends maybe.”

“My friends would not try to kill me.” Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Besides, you know this, you did research and interrogations.”

“I personally didn’t interrogate them, I’m too close to you guys.” Grantaire answered, surveying the rest of the room for more traps or potential deaths. God, he loved his job.

“Well whoever did it, Bossuet is a little in love with them.” Enjolras replied.

“Musichetta, yeah, who isn’t in love with her? She’s badass, terrifying, absolutely bat shit insane but she makes awesome cakes, classic mum friend, has a cracking personality and her puns are the best – not that I’d ever say that to her face.” Grantaire nodded with a smile “Anyway, stop trying to distract me, you can’t sit there.”

“And what? I’m supposed to just up and move from the space I chose the first day we started this?” Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow which really shouldn’t be as sexy as it was but Grantaire just put his hands on his hips and stared back.

“You know what, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” Grantaire told him. Enjolras stared at him and then with an eyeroll moved to the other side of the room in an over exaggerated manor – and he’d called Courfeyrac a drama representative voted for and by the people. “Not there either, it’s easy to get you from the door.”

“Then where? Where am I supposed to sit?” Enjolras exclaimed, whirling around to face Grantaire, hair a little manic and eyes on the crazy side of normal.

Grantaire ran the risks and scenarios through his head and decided, “Behind the door, until I think of a way you can die there.”

“Any particular reason?”

“So then they have to come into the room to shoot you and obviously, I’ll be there to block it and there are going to be blinds on the windows that are closed when you’re in here, so that minimises risk from outside.”

“Oh my god, I think you’re taking this a little too far.” Enjolras rolled his eyes, but moving into the space. He dumped his bag with on the table with an exasperated sigh and started rearranging his folders and files.

“It’s better too far and having you stay alive than too little and having you end up dead.” Grantaire snapped, guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach, heating his blood and making him feel sick. He fought the memories that haunted him at night and focused on Enjolras’ eyes, a completely different colour to hers, but still a similar kind of shape, a similar kind of look in them.

Enjolras stared at him for a long while, long enough for Grantaire to know he was being assessed or that Enjolras was thinking of a response, long enough the others started filtering into the room, one by one. And then he whispered low and barely audible, tone curt, “I suppose.”

 

-

 

“Éponine I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“I don’t give a shit, you do, you know you do so suck it up and deal with it. Okay?”

“No, Grantaire is wasting his skills and time by protecting someone who doesn’t need it and I bet it’s costing you a fortune. You need things and so does Gav’, you can’t splurge on me.”

“It got approved by the agency so no, it’s not a waste, they must think the threat is real, they wouldn’t send anyone if they didn’t. And, I’d spend all the money in the world to keep you safer. Gav’ and I are fine, I picked up another job, it pays better than the others, so we’ll get through it.”

“You already work too much, Ep-”

“No, I said it’s fine and it is, you’re only kicking up a fuss because Grantaire is exactly your type and you’re scared you’re going to fall for him and get hurt. He kicked your ass at that meeting, I’ve never seen you speechless but he did it and I say he’s a keeper because of it, plus he fits in really well with everyone. He’s not going anywhere Enjolras, so suck it up and deal with it.”

“’Ponin-”

 

-

 

“This hate mail is surprisingly graphic.” Grantaire placed the letter he’d been reading on the coffee table, pretending he hadn’t read how someone wanted Enjolras to die. Said blond rolled his eyes and continued to type away on his laptop, fingers a blur.

“Hence my paranoia.” Éponine answered from her place on the floor, setting letters into piles of different handwriting, desperate to find some kind of link to them.

“It’s hard to trace.” Cosette muttered from where she was scanning letters into her computer. Grantaire had called her in to help him find the sender of said letters, she was always better at the technology side of their work than Grantaire. “They change styles frequently, but it’s definitely the same writer or group of writers since they all have the ‘p’ and ‘m’ watermarked at the top.”

“PM? Maybe Parliament Member?” Éponine suggested, raising an eyebrow, stretching her arms above her head. Grantaire saw Cosette’s eyes follow the fabric of the brunette’s tank top. Éponine was exactly Cosette’s type and from the look of it, she liked what she saw of the brunette – the way she was smiling gave it away.

“Way to narrow it down, most of the PMs don’t like me.” Enjolras sighed, not removing his eyes from the computer screen. Grantaire wondered briefly what he was writing, probably a post for his social justice blog.

“Can’t imagine why, what with your charming personality.” Grantaire answered in monotone, grinning when Enjolras glared over at him. Éponine smirked at him from across the coffee table.

“They could really like afternoon though, post meridiem, PM.” Cosette suggested, clearly ignoring Enjolras and Grantaire’s bickering, which made them both feel like petty children.

“Private Message?” Éponine quipped with a smile, “So only Enjy is getting the death threats. That’s actually quite flattering actually.”

“How?” Enjolras stared at her incredulously.

“Because they feel strongly about you enough to want you dead.”

“Prime Minister, or Post-Mortem.” Cosette grinned at Éponine.

“Post-Mortem, obviously, only it’s a Pre-Mortem, explaining how he’s going to die.” Éponine laughed, warm and happy sounding. The first time Grantaire had heard her laugh actually. From the way Enjolras looked at Cosette, not many people manage to make it happen, that or he was falling head over heels for her – which wasn’t improbable, Cosette was amazing.

“I’m so glad you’re both joking about my potential death.” Enjolras told them.

“I thought you said it was nothing and we were all being overdramatic.” Éponine shot back.

“I’ve got it. PM is Paul McCartney.” Grantaire smiled, cutting off whatever Enjolras was going to say. Instead the blond shut his mouth and looked at Grantaire like he was the sole reason for capitalism and the class system and the bourgeoisie.

“Oh my god R.” Cosette laughed.

“That’s it, Enjy, Paul McCartney wants you dead.” Éponine decided with a grin, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Enjolras just rolled his eyes at them all.

 

-

 

“Wooo, first day of work.” Grantaire whistled before he resumed singing ‘Nine To Five’ under his breath as he looked up at the tall buildings around them, they didn’t fit with the whole ‘Paris, The City of Love’ notion, too new, too modern to fit with the city’s aesthetic and it did disappoint Grantaire but there was also the shiver of anticipation of being under cover.

His agency had contacted Enjolras’ work place and the two of them had gotten Grantaire a job and a cover story to why he was suddenly working there. And it was ridiculous really, Grantaire had laughed for at least ten minutes when he was told he was to be Enjolras’ intern.

“Don’t worry that fades and then you get nothing but gruelling contempt.” Enjolras sighed, looking at the building with an air of exhaustion. He looked good though, in a fitted charcoal suit, tie loose and the top few buttons undone, hair curly and free. Grantaire beside him felt like a kid playing dress up and that wasn’t just because of his height – or well, lack of height.

“At least from now on, you get to be my boss.” Grantaire pointed out as they went into one of the buildings straight to the elevator that would take them up to Enjolras’ floor.

“Welcome to the office.” Enjolras announced as they stepped out of the elevator. The floor was basically one big room with a section dedicated to the staff kitchen and breakroom with a few separate offices at the other end. Enjolras headed to his office, being important enough to have one but not important enough to be its only inhabitant, meaning he had to share.

“Morning Enjolras.” A smooth, snake-like voice oozed and Grantaire was hit by a wave of emotions so strong he didn’t know how to decipher it all.

The man – Enjolras’ officemate - was beautiful but there was a wrongness to it, a danger in his sharp eyebrows and prominent cheekbones, the long lashes and full lips, the elegantly styled hair and gorgeously expensive clothing. Grantaire was hit with the urge to run away screaming, dragging Enjolras along behind him.

“Grantaire this is my officemate Montparnasse, Montparnasse this is my intern Grantaire.” Enjolras did the necessary introductions, turning to his desk to dump his bag, unaware of the way Montparnasse’s eyes crawled across his back.

“Nice to meet you Grantaire.” Montparnasse set his eyes on him, they were a unnerving shade of green, pale and intimidating. He practically purred Grantaire’s name and the brunet’s skin crawled like a hundred bugs had scuttled across it.

“The same to you.” Grantaire nodded politely, or as politely as he could when he was filled with a fury so strong he wanted to break something i.e. Montparnasse’s face or neck.

“Sure. Well, I’m going to be out all day on interviews, not that this hasn’t been lovely.” Montparnasse told Enjolras, looking at the blond with a predatory look that boiled Grantaire’s blood. “See you later darling.”

“Later.” Enjolras waved a hand dismissively, back to him as he unpacked his bag. And god, how could he be so oblivious to that creep.

“Oh, and Enjolras, I’m still serious about my offer, we’d be good together, you could do with destressing and the storage room is going to be empty until LuPone gets here.” Montparnasse paused at the door, leaning back into the room with a hand on the doorframe. “Hell, the intern could even join in.”

“No thank you, Montparnasse.” Enjolras replied, “I am not interested in having sex with you and neither is Grantaire.”

“Suit yourselves.” Montparnasse answered and then left in a flourish of perfume. Grantaire felt like he could breathe again.

“Well he seems like a piece of work.” Grantaire growled and Enjolras looked at him vaguely alarmed but looking godly in his suit.

“I can handle him,” Enjolras sighed and Grantaire assumed it was supposed to be reassuring but it really wasn’t, “Now come on, we’ve actually got work to do.”

 

-

 

“Hey, ‘Sette, it just came to me PM, you don’t think it could be?”

“We shut them down R, they’re all in prison.”

“But if they’re not, we haven’t heard about them in years. I don’t know I just met someone today who reminded me of them and it got me thinking.”

“I’ll look into it and get back to you, ‘Taire.”

“Thank you, ‘Sette.”

 

-

 

Enjolras hadn’t thought anything of it when he’d lost his house key after the morning rush on the metro, blaming it on a pickpocket. He’d just used the spare he gotten made for Combeferre and carried on his normal life. But he was reminded of it as he stood, looking over Grantaire’s shoulder into his, now trashed, apartment. Well fucking hell.

“Have you been looking for a roommate?” Grantaire asked, glancing over his shoulder at Enjolras, curls falling to cover his eyes, making him look more mysterious than he was. As if he needed help in that matter.

“No.”

“Well you’ve got one, I’m officially moving in with you.” Grantaire, brushed the hair from his eyes and grinned. Enjolras couldn’t find it within himself to be annoyed, not when Grantaire was beaming at him like that and had basically been living with him weeks before this.

“But there’s not space.” Enjolras protested, leaning against the wall as the brunet dropped to his knees, looking at the lock. And he was only picking this argument to make it look like he didn’t want Grantaire around, because he found he didn’t mind the other man’s presence - which was a shock.

“Liar, you have an extra bedroom, it’s in your files, plus I’ve been in there. If you hadn’t, well I’m very acquainted with your sofa.” Grantaire shot back before focusing on the door which looked perfectly new, “This is weird, there aren’t any marks to show forced entry, it’s like they had a key. Who has keys to your apartment?”

“Me and all the others, the landlady and maybearandomstranger.” Enjolras trailed off at the last part. Grantaire stood up and turned to face Enjolras, jaw clenched, an eyebrow raised and fire in his eyes – which shouldn’t be as attractive as it was.

“What?”

“I lost my key a few weeks ago, but I just assumed it fell out on the metro or something. Actually, someone bumped into me when I left the train carriage to go to work but I didn’t think anything of it, it was rush hour.” Enjolras confessed, looking down at the floor because his face felt hot and he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or from the fact he was just now realising just how attractive Grantaire was.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Grantaire exclaimed. “That’s vital information. Rule three is that you tell me everything, everything no matter how trivial. I can’t even with you- no, just stay here whilst I check the apartment. If anything goes wrong then yell, even if you get so much as a splinter okay? And call your friends, let them know.”

 

-

 

“R, what’s up?”

“I need some of those fancy locks – windows and doors just to be safe, you know the ones that are hard to pick.”

“I do, need me to install them?”

“You always were better at it than me and I’m not having another, I can’t have-”

“R, it wasn’t your fault, any of us could have made the mistake, you can’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Easier said than done. He’s so much like her, so stubborn and headstrong and beautiful, can you be here tonight?”

“Yeah, give me an hour.”

“Oh and can you run some tests on some flowers?”

“What kind?”

“Roses, but they’re purple.”

“You get purple roses, R.”

“But they don’t smell like roses.”

“Put them in a plastic bag and seal it, I’ll take them with me and analyse them at the lab.”

“Thank you Jehan, you’re an angel.”

“It’s no problem R.”

 

-

 

“There’s nothing that will hurt you, but I found a bunch of purple roses and some bugs so it seems they just wanted information from you, probably checking into your routine and who has access to the apartment, maybe some secrets to your protests.” Grantaire spoke to Enjolras and Éponine – who’d suddenly appeared and he wasn’t surprised at all. “I’ve called a friend to change your locks though, he’ll be here soon.”

“At least if they want information from me, they’re not planning to kill me off.” Enjolras shrugged.

“At least not right now.” Éponine muttered, pressing her lips together. “But you’ve read the letters E, we can’t take any chances.”

“You can come in now.” Grantaire walked back into the trashed room with the other two behind him. He righted the tipped over coffee table. “They won’t kill you just yet, but they won’t be happy with whoever planted the bugs, it was a shoddy job, probably done by a newbie. They’re probably going to get shot for it.”

“Oh?” Enjolras replied, joining him to move the furniture, arranging it back to what it was.

“Man, I forgot how brutal the crime world was.” Éponine sighed, picking up books to put on the bookcases. Enjolras didn’t seem to have an order to his bookcase, or if he did Éponine knew it and put them back in the correct places.

“Forgot?” Grantaire looked up at the back of her head as he and Enjolras worked together to flip the sofa over to the right way. He saw the way she tensed and took a deep breath, steeling herself.

“I was raised by two of the biggest crime bosses in Marseilles, people had their fingers cut off on our dinner table, my lullaby was the sound of fighting as my dad ripped into someone who’d crossed him, my babysitter dealt drugs out of my back yard. I told the interrogator.” Éponine turned her head to look at him, long hair flowing down her back, looking almost like velvet in the evening light.

“Have they anyway to get to you?”

“No, I got out, got emancipations for me and Gavroche, we changed our names, hitchhiked to Paris set up a new life. I knew Enjolras because he’d holidayed in Marseilles once and my parents had set me to pickpocket his family when we were children. I didn’t do it and befriended him instead despite the consequences. It was the first time I’d had a real friend and we kept in touch throughout the years as things steadily grew worse back home.

“So then I left with my brother, I didn’t want him to turn out like everyone else back home, corrupted and borderline sociopathic. I tracked Enjolras down – it seems so of the skills my parents taught were useful and I turned up to his apartment half-starved and sleep-deprived with a hungry, unwashed ten-year-old and he just took us in and helped us get to where we are now.” Éponine shrugged as if it was nothing, as if she hadn’t been through hell and survived. God, she was amazing.

“So it couldn’t be them?” Grantaire asked, it was all he could do to not drop his jaw and stare at her in wonder.

“I don’t think so but I wouldn’t put it past them, you know, if they were scraping the barrel for money or food, our name was Thénardier if you want to check them.”

“But I didn’t know your parents, why would they want me dead?” Enjolras asked, setting the end table and lamp up again as Grantaire dealt with the rug.

“Well, if there’s a bounty on your head, they knew of you and your family, that’s why they wanted me to steal from you and they’d do anything for money.” Éponine shrugged. “Hence why I had to pickpocket people if I wanted to eat at night.”

“I’ll get Cosette to check them and let you know the result.” Grantaire told her, “If you and Gavroche are in danger Éponine, I will get someone to protect you.”

This time she did turn to look at him, a soft smile on her face, eyes watery, looking more fragile than ever, but still made of titanium, “Thank you R, I’m glad you took this job.”

Grantaire smiled at her, watching as she seemed to relax before turning back to the bookshelf. His eyes flitted to where Enjolras was adjusting an armchair, arm muscles highlighted by the evening sun, curls shinning, tongue sticking out as he concentrated and Éponine shouted out unhelpful suggestions to him and Grantaire was glad he took the job too.

 

-

 

Their work was interrupted by a knock on the door and Grantaire leapt into action immediately, gesturing for Enjolras and Éponine to get behind him. They followed his lead, trusting him to keep them safe and it was comforting, they may only have known each other a few weeks, but he felt a bond with them he hadn’t with so many other clients. Apart from- well, it wasn’t the time for ghost stories.

He flicked his wrist so his knife fell down into his hand and walked to the door, checking the peep hole and relaxing once he saw the familiar strawberry blond bun. None other than Jehan Prouvaire pushed past him in a whirl of patterns, woollen jumper and flowers as he opened the door. Enjolras blinked as he passed.

“Enjolras, Éponine, this is Jehan, Jehan this is Enjolras and Éponine.” Grantaire told him, closing the door and locking it – though if some blood-thirsty murderer was going to try to kill Enjolras, a lock wouldn’t do much to stop them.

“Hello, I’m here to change your locks. R I have some of your things, Cosette made up a bag for you.” Jehan explained, eyes flicking between the two of them. He hadn’t changed in the weeks, still petite and so beautiful he looked like a delicate angel.

“She’s a saint.” Grantaire smiled taking his bag from Jehan and placing it by the sofa.

“Would you like a drink or anything?” Enjolras asked, smiling warmly at Jehan in a way he never had at Grantaire and the brunet fought a frown. “I have a variety of teas.”

“Ooh, yes please.” Jehan grinned, then to Grantaire he said, “I like this guy already.”

“I have Blood Orange and Cranberry, Green Tea, Red Bush, Elderberry, Earl Grey.” Enjolras reeled off, smiling at Jehan’s comment. “And a few more I can’t think of right now.”

“Elderberry, please.” Jehan requested, Enjolras got Grantaire and Éponine’s orders of coffee before disappearing into the kitchen.

“I’ll call the others, you wanted to debrief them right R?” Éponine asked, her phone was in her hand, a battered and beat up old thing with cracks across the screen, but it lit up with her touch. She deserved better.

“Yeah, the more they know the better that way they can change their locks too, just as a precaution.” Grantaire nodded and she began typing away, chipped nail polish fingers clicking against the fractured glass.

Grantaire slipped through to the kitchen to see Enjolras boiling water in the kettle. The kitchen was like the rest of the apartment, minimalist but scattered with Les Amis posters and banners and articles. Grantaire preferred the living room, the kitchen felt like an activist extremist plotting lodge with a fridge.

“Is Jehan a bodyguard?” The blond asked without turning around, as if he knew Grantaire would follow him, something that should concern the brunet but really didn’t. In the background they heard Éponine ordering the others around and Jehan tinkered with the lock, the kettle bubbled away but Grantaire was focused on Enjolras.

“Yeah.”

“But he looks too delicate to be one, I feel like I need to protect him, feed him tea and wrap him up in blankets.” Enjolras confessed, picking out mugs for them all and placing them on the counter delicately. The selection of mugs was quite frankly weird, one had cats on, one was in the shape of a human skull, one looked like a science beaker and one was for ‘the best mum in the world’.

“As much as he would love that, Jehan is a badass, though that’s actually why he’s such a good bodyguard, everyone underestimates him and thinks he’s fragile. He learnt to use it to his advantage, he ranked top in our training, even against Bahorel who is built like a tank.” Grantaire mused, it had been a sight to see and one Grantaire was pleased he had been witness to. They’d all worshiped Jehan after he’s spared Bahorel and won.

“I can’t imagine it.”

“None of us could until we saw it.” Grantaire bit his bottom lip, watching Enjolras put a teabag each in the skull and cat mug, “He’s got such a gentle personality too.”

“Quite a fashion sense.” Enjolras added.

“Yeah… Bahorel and Musichetta tried to get that out of him, but to no avail.” Grantaire laughed and Enjolras chuckled too as he picked up the kettle. “He’s more original than any of us, he’s worn something and then a few months later, it would be all the rage in Dubai or Rome or somewhere else big and exotic. Is Éponine-“

“Is Éponine what?” Enjolras turned to face him, raising an eyebrow, face hardened. His hands were white where he griped the kettle’s handle tightly and Grantaire could tell how protective Enjolras was of his best friend. His best friend who was currently threatening someone with disembowelment on the phone.

“Is she okay? She’s been through hell and she’s still here and seems so strong and I’m just amazed, is she even human?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras’ expression relaxed. He turned back to the drinks and poured the hot water into each mug.

“Yeah, she gets nightmares about it sometimes but she’s a fighter. She turned up here like six years ago, she was barely eighteen and she was so scarily thin and pale with these huge bags under her eyes. I honestly thought she was going to die. She’d been giving any food she managed to find to Gavroche and she hadn’t slept for more than three hours in a row in the two weeks it took for her to get here.”

“She’s so amazing.” Grantaire sighed in awe, “She did it all by herself?”

“By herself, yeah.” Enjolras nodded, “I helped after she got here, but she wouldn’t let me do much. It was incredible, she is incredible and I’ve never met someone quite like her.”

“God, I couldn’t have, wouldn’t have been here if I’d have gone through that as well.” Grantaire mentally slapped himself in the face for that one, he felt his colour drain as Enjolras’ eyes flashed up to meet Grantaire’s, they’d lost the steely, cold edge to them and melted into a softer version, warmer and less guarded. What the fuck?

“As well?”

“Nothing.”

“What is it?” Enjolras pushed, his jaw setting in determination to know but Grantaire squared his back, equally defiant.

Grantaire was saved a response by Jehan shouting for him. The brunet acted immediately, rushing to his co-worker’s side, he heard already familiar voices that he knew belonged to Enjolras’ friends. He walked out into the hall to find Jehan, stood in front of the door, lock and drill in hand, Éponine talking quickly from behind him, Coufeyrac looking like he’d been hit by a truck, Combeferre was frowning, Bossuet was keeping quiet, Marius was flushing bright red and Feuilly looked about ready to faint on his feet.

“These are my friends, honestly.” Éponine explained, growling in frustration under her breath.

“Jehan, we’re expecting them, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Bossuet, Feuilly and Marius.” Grantaire supplied, gesturing to each of them in turn, they either smiled or nodded back, “Enjolras’ friends, this is Close Protection Officer Jehan.”

“Jehan, that’s such a beautiful name.” Courfeyrac snapped back into action, turning up his charm, Jehan smiled. Combeferre opened his mouth as if to speak before deciding against it and instead practically shoving Courfeyrac out of the way as he stormed past them all and into the flat. Well, that was interesting.

“Enjolras is in the kitchen.” Grantaire told the rest of them and they filtered through, apart from Courfeyrac, who stayed to flirt with Jehan.

 

-

 

“There’s something wrong with him.”

“With who Enjolras? Use your words.”

“Screw you. There’s something wrong with Grantaire.”

“Apart from the fact you want to bend him over a table and fuck him all nigh-”

“Éponine!”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“No, well, no. I meant there’s something wrong, he gets really, I don’t know, weird about the past? Like really touchy and he keeps saying cryptic things. He seems a little over the top with me being safe.”

“Because it’s his job, Enjolras.”

“No, it’s more than that, it’s like something has happened in the past or I don’t know, something has changed him. Something has happened to him that’s made him overprotective.”

“No, Enjy, no.”

“What?”

“That’s your determined voice, no you will not find out his secrets.”

“What if they compromise the job he’s doing? Or what if Grantaire tells me himself?”

“No Enjolras, you can’t pry into it. He’d tell us if it would affect his job, hell, he wouldn’t be working at the agency if it affected his work performance. Just trust him okay?”

“Okay.”

 

-

 

“What the fuck is this monstrosity you call coffee?” Grantaire asked, spitting the liquid into the sink and then dumping the rest of the mug after it. His hair was stuck up in the most adorable way and he seemed to have lost his shirt somewhere in the journey from his bedroom to the kitchen. Which, well, Enjolras was expecting Grantaire to have a nice body and he delivered.

“Black coffee?” Enjolras squinted as Grantaire shuffled to the packet on the side.

“Instant?” Grantaire turned to him horrified. “That was vaguely coffee tasting water, Enjolras. I was polite about it when the others were here but it is fucking rank.”

“I never got around to getting a coffee maker.” Enjolras shrugged. Normally he bought his coffee out and yeah it was expensive but it was the one thing he liked to splurge on. Treat yo’self as Courfeyrac would say.

“We’re getting one but you’re staying away from it with your shitty coffee making skills” Grantaire told him, dumping the packet in the bin. Oddly Enjolras couldn’t find it in himself to mind much. “Actually, rule four: I make the coffee because that should never be consumed by a human ever.”

And then he shuffled off back to his room, slamming the door shut. Well then.

 

-

 

Living with Enjolras was surprisingly easy – despite the coffee incident.

The spare room Grantaire had moved into was decorated much like the rest of the apartment, monochrome with an accent colour, green which Grantaire felt more comfortable around then all the bright aggressive red. He’d put his clothes in the wardrobe, his weapons and tools in various spots around the apartment and made sure to tell Enjolras where they were - though the scream when Enjolras had found a few of Grantaire’s fancier knives in the bathroom cupboard had been hilarious.

The blond had a set routine, wake up, coffee, shower, coffee, breakfast, get ready, work, home, coffee, dinner, write, research, plan and sometimes a les aims meeting or the group came over or they went out clubbing, it always ended in bed, sleep, repeat. Weekends were different and Enjolras met up with his friends and went for an early morning run, both days. Grantaire slotted into this routine, waking up earlier to check everything for Enjolras’ safety, planning different routes for them to run on, showering at night when the blond was writing furiously on his laptop. Enjolras seemed to be more accepting of Grantaire and in return he tried to be less irritating. They got on well and Grantaire, at least, would class them as friends.

And, okay maybe seeing Enjolras blurry eyed before his morning coffee did strange things to his heart, maybe running with him made him ridiculously happy or even sitting together, debating points as they ate dinner or watched a movie on the TV made Grantaire feel strangely domestic. Maybe it helped Enjolras didn’t date and Grantaire didn’t have to sit a table over as Enjolras dined with another person. Maybe he felt they might actually work as a couple, but he wasn’t going to cross the line, tell Enjolras how he felt or take advantage of the situation in any way.

That was okay.

 

-

 

Living with Grantaire was really fucking hard.

He was always there and though that wasn’t a bad thing – it was in fact his job – it was distracting Enjolras so much he started accepting Courfeyrac’s invitations to go out clubbing just to put a little distance between them, to get his mind off Grantaire. Grantaire with his wicked laugh and quick wit, his curly hair and pretty weapons, his arms, oh god his arms. He had great arms.

The hardest points of living with Grantaire were listed in Enjolras’ mind.

1\. First thing when Enjolras had had another graphic dream about him and trudged to the kitchen half asleep and wondering why mornings were a thing, when the shirtless brunet just smiled and held out the coffee he’d made and it was so good it took Enjolras all his effort not to groan and beg Grantaire to make him coffee for the rest of his life.

2\. After he’d woken up properly, showered and eaten and Grantaire couldn’t do up his tie so Enjolras had to, their faces so close the blond could just have pressed their lips together without any effort.

3\. Anytime they ate together and the food was good because Grantaire would just moan as he ate it and the sound definitely affected Enjolras.

4\. In meetings when he would destroy Enjolras point in a few short sentences and smirk like a clichéd bad boy which was very hot.

5\. When Grantaire inevitably initiated a race on their jogs and Enjolras couldn’t let himself be beaten. So they’d sprint through the park and end up rolling down the hill landing in a pile of limbs and hair and yeah.

6\. Just after Grantaire’s shower and before they went to sleep because the brunet refused to sleep in a shirt and didn’t see the point in putting one on after he’d washed. He had a great torso to match the arms – praise the lord for Grantaire’s upper body.

There were more but these were the worst ones and were the causes of most of Enjolras’ distressed phone calls to his friends complaining about Grantaire. To which they either laughed (Courfeyrac and Bossuet), put the phone down (Éponine) or sighed deeply and let him whine for two hours (Combeferre – because he really owed Enjolras after all his Courfeyrac rants, Courfeyrants if you will) – he never called Feuilly because he always worked and didn’t need Enjolras’ problems on top of his own and he never called Marius because if he did, he’d get a speech about how wonderful love was and that he should embrace it and no, just no. Marius was an actual Disney Princess and Enjolras didn’t need to actively put that in his life.

He coped. Mostly. With Grantaire and his shower singing, his coffee making, his puns and debates, his sparkly odd coloured eyes. He endured it, never wanting to suggest something else, he knew there were probably rules against relationships in Grantaire’s line of work and Grantaire probably didn’t even see him that way. God, he was probably straight or something. So he stayed quiet and suffered in mostly silent agony.

It was not okay.

 

-

 

“Hey R, so I analysed the roses.”

“Thank you Jehan, you’re a wonderful human, what’re the results?”

“There’s nothing harmful on them but they’re doused in perfume.”

“That’s strange.”

“If you find anymore send them to me.”

“Do you think it could be-”

“No. Look I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, thank you Jehan.”

“Anytime R.”

 

-

Enjolras cursed Bossuet and his unluckiness. No, that wasn’t fair. The attack had been calculated and planned but it had only been Bossuet who had taken the usual route home from the Musain, Grantaire had been encouraging them to mix it up in case something like this happened. In case whoever wanted to kill Enjolras decided to hurt his friends.

And that was the reason why Enjolras was stood in his own living room with his friends, Grantaire and two of his colleges, in nothing but Éponine’s yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, hair up in a messy bun.

“Alright, defence class, I’m Bahorel, I’ll be running through some defence moves to prevent what happened to Bossuet, happening to you.” One of Grantaire’s friends spoke, the tall one – taller than Enjolras which was really hard to do - who was basically all muscle. Grantaire stood beside him look almost child-like and Enjolras really couldn’t believe that Jehan had beaten The Hulk (minus the uncontrollable rage and greenness) as Enjolras was now referring to Bahorel in his head.

“And I’m Joly, here in case of medical emergency and also Bossuet’s close protection officer.” Grantaire’s other friend spoke from where he was stood by Bahorel’s side, looking very pale but with a huge grin. Bossuet smiled back, bruises blooming across his skin in varying shades of blue, purple and yellow.

“Pair up.” Bahorel ordered, then winked over at Feuilly, “I’ll take ginger.”

“I have a name.” He snapped but stomped over to Bahorel, his ears pink.

Enjolras looked around but found Combeferre and Courfeyrac had formed a pair, Joly and Bossuet stuck together which left Marius and Éponine chatting quietly and judging by the grin she threw at him it was intentional. Traitors.

“Well, Apollo, guess you’ll have to stick with me.” Grantaire smirked as he approached Enjolras and fuck no, this was too much. Enjolras heard Éponine laugh in the background.

“Yay.” Enjolras replied.

“So you could always kick your assailant in the balls.” Bahorel started.

“Hell yeah.” Éponine grinned and yeah, Enjolras would admit that as a person with balls, that she did in fact scare him a little.

“But as most of us are male, we can imagine the pain and the attacker could be female and therefore that move is less effective – I’ve been informed it still hurts though.” Bahorel carried on after stifling his laugh, “I’ll show you some moves to help you get away and hurt your attacker, then we’ll meet again for more moves and I want you to practice in between, you’ll have R to teach you that since he knows this shit, okay?”

They all nodded.

“The let’s get down to business.”

 

-

 

“Grantaire, I did the research. Éponine’s parents are still in prison.”

“Well that’s great then.”

“You’d think, her dad’s gang members are not though and they’re looking for her to bail her parents out or something. I’m going to be staying with Éponine for now in case. Papa assigned me.”

“At least we’ll get to work together again.”

“Thank goodness! The flat felt really lonely without you.”

“I’ll see you soon Cosette.”

“You too ‘Taire.”

 

-

“Are you even trying?” Grantaire asked, legs either side of Enjolras’ hips, leaning down over the blond to pin his hands above his head, eyes locked on the blond’s.

“Yes.” Enjolras sighed. Trying so hard not to let their positions affect him, he focused on the way his rug dug uncomfortably into his back and not on the way Grantaire’s hair fell down around their faces, he hadn’t even broken a sweat unlike Enjolras who was panting beneath him. Nope, wrong choice of words.

“Try harder.” Grantaire growled, voice low and rough and yes, the sound went straight through Enjolras, he closed his eyes to block out Grantaire’s and focused on sad things - puppies getting hit by cars, capitalism, Marius, old ladies alone at their own birthday parties, the bourgeoisies - to stop any inappropriate appearances of his anatomy.

“You’re an expert though.” Enjolras retorted, trying to the whininess in his voice.

“Chances are whoever attacks you will be trained too, I’m not letting you go till you get out of this yourself, you need to learn.” Grantaire told him, tightening his grip on Enjolras’ hands and thighs. “How are you are getting out of this?”

“I don’t know.” Enjolras sighed

“You do. You probably won’t have a strength advantage over your attacker but you’re intelligent so use that, rule five: use your head, your intellect, your smarts. I believe in you. I’ll ask you again how are you getting out of this?” Grantaire repeated, his eyes had hardened but there was gentle quality to them, he was doing this for Enjolras’ best interest. Even if it was torturous.

So Enjolras thought. His hands and legs were useless, held in place by Grantaire and though he could thrash around it would do nothing to help him. Enjolras could roll them over, Bahorel had taught them a move with their feet to do that, but that’s what Grantaire was expecting. And then it hit him. Grantaire said to use his head.

So that’s what he did.

 

-

 

“Hey ‘Suet can you and Joly come here please? We need his medical abilities.”

“What the hell Enjolras, are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, it’s for Grantaire, I may have accidentally broken his nose, I’m not sure though, I can’t get a good look because there’s a lot of swelling and he just screams bloody murder whenever I go near him. No pun intended.”

“How?”

“We were practicing self-defence and he had me pinned and he wouldn’t let go till I got out of it so I head-butted him.”

“Jesus Christ Enjy. We’ll be right over.”

“Bring gloves!”

-

 

“Well it’s not broken.” Joly announced as he walked back through to the living room Grantaire in tow with a bag of frozen peas over his nose, there was dried blood on his face. “Just knocked it a bit, caused a nose bleed but there’ll be bruising.”

“But the sound.” Enjolras protested, it had been awful the sound of bone against bone. Enjolras wouldn’t forget it anytime soon. He pulled on his t-shirt, not having gotten changed after the incident. There was a bit of Grantaire’s blood near the collar.

“I’ve had worse Enjy.” Grantaire smiled and then winced, falling onto the sofa beside Bossuet overdramatically, “Good move though, they wouldn’t have seen it coming. I didn’t.”

“Can I check you too, Enjolras?” Joly asked, medical bag still in hand.

“Sure.” Enjolras nodded.

“Any headaches, nausea, vomiting, dizziness?” Joly asked, taking a small torch out of his bag, he perched on the coffee table in front of the blond. He seemed so dainty and fragile there, Enjolras kind of wanted to look after him.

“No.”

“Loss of balance?” Joly flashed the light over his eyes, looking in each one intently.

“Nope.”

“Okay, I can’t see anything but call if you feel any of those things, R you know what to do for both of you?” Joly asked, glancing over at where he was sprawled across Bossuet, moaning about the pain just to wind Enjolras up.

He grinned as he caught Enjolras’ eye and winked which looked silly around the bag of peas, the dried blood on his shirt and the bright pink headband keeping his curls back out his face but it made Enjolras look away to hide a blush anyway. God this was fucking ridiculous.

“Yeah, I do Joly.”

 

-

 

“Hey,” The voice was soft and concerned and Grantaire wanted to go back to sleep, fuck how nice the speaker sounded, “Hey, come on R, wake up.”

‘I don’t want to’ Grantaire groaned but it came out more like, “Shut the fuck up.”

“You need to take more pain medicine; Joly’s schedule is strict.” And that was Enjolras, and he was standing to Grantaire’s right.

“I don’t want it.” Grantaire grumbled, still yet to open his eyes. He had a plan though to get Enjolras to shut up and to not take his medicine because sleep was a hundred times more important.

“But you need to take it, never mind whoever’s trying to kill me if you don’t take it Joly’ll have my-” Enjolras’ words got mangled into an undignified scream when Grantaire reached out and grabbed his wrist pulling the blond onto the bed, the brunet wrapped his arms around his thinner frame and hugged him with the intention of never letting him go.

“There.” Grantaire cracked his eyes open to see Enjolras’ hair all over and his face was all red but it didn’t matter, because his eyes were closing and he was drifting to sleep again. “You can be my medicine.”

He just heard Enjolras mutter something under his breath before he fell asleep completely.

 

-

 

Grantaire didn’t wake up because his nose was a riot of pain, he didn’t, okay. He woke up because Enjolras was a honest-to-god furnace when he slept which was still apparently on top of Grantaire because the brunet was a sleep hugger, he wasn’t going to lie about it.

At some point Enjolras had moved so his front was pressed against Grantaire’s their legs tangled and arms wrapped around each other tightly, Enjolras’ head nestled in the crook of Grantaire’s neck, hair a crazy haystack on his head that tickled Grantaire’s skin as the blond breathed. Grantaire could feel his eyelashes against his neck, the brush of his lips against his skin when they breaths were in sync. It was sweet torture.

And then Enjolras moaned.

It was quiet at first and Grantaire thought he’d imagined it, but then Enjolras groaned a little louder, his lips coming alive and brushing against Grantaire’s neck in what could only be tiny, sleepy attempts at kisses.

“Enjolras.” Grantaire whispered, trying to save the blond’s dignity and stop his inevitable mortification when he woke up properly.

“R.” Enjolras moaned and then the roughness of his tongue against Grantaire neck made him shiver and he was seriously having control issues right now as the blond bit down slightly, “Grantaire…”

“Enjolras,” But he sounded hazy to his own ears and forced himself to speak again, mustering all the authority he could, “Enjolras. You need to get up.”

“Shhhh.” And then his mouth was on Grantaire’s neck and the brunet wondered if he might be living with a vampire.

So Grantaire did the only thing he could think to do, roll them over so he was on top of the blond, Enjolras cracked his eyes open as he was forcibly detached from Grantaire’s neck, his head landing on the pillow, his golden curls spread out around his face like a halo and god, this image was going to be burned into his head forever now.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras squinted up at him. And yes, of course he’d been asleep, of course he hadn’t known what he was doing. But he said your name.

“I’m going to take something for my nose and make breakfast. We’re behind your incredibly rigorous schedule.” Grantaire announced before jumping up and leaving the room, the blond staring after him as he went. It was nothing. Nothing at all.

 

-

 

“Have you got a love bite?” Cosette frowned at Grantaire’s neck as she and Éponine sloped into that week’s meeting. Obviously, she skipped the bruising of his nose and went straight to the tiny mark Enjolras had made on his neck.

Grantaire just sighed, he’d filed that memory in a box but he wasn’t sure what to categorise it as. He felt he should be honest with her, she’d probably find it hilarious. “Because Enjolras turns part vampire when he sleeps.”

 

-

 

“So you slept with Grantaire?”

“Éponine, we did just that, we just slept. I tried to get him to take his pain medicine for his nose and he latched onto me and it was really warm and his chest is comfy and I ended up falling asleep.”

“And then?”

“And I had a wonderful dream where I was kissing Grantaire’s neck and we were in love and he wanted me and it was perfect, but then it turns out the kissing part wasn’t a dream and he practically threw me off him and stormed off. I fucked up big style and now everything is weird.”

“Jesus Christ Enjolras.”

“I know.”

“You gave him a hickey in your sleep.”

“I know.”

“Fucking hell.”

“I know.”

“I’m just amazed.”

“What do I do ‘Ponine?”

“Apologise for munching on his neck and then acting like it never happened?”

“Okay, so I like the second part of that plan, not so keen on the first part.”

“You need to talk.”

“Ugh.”

“Just do it and then you’ll be back to pining from across the apartment in no time.”

“Fine.”

“Good luck.”

 

-

 

“Grantaire.”

He froze mid-way across the living room, hand holding up the towel to his head. He didn’t see the point in putting a shirt on so his chest was bare, his sweat pants clinging to his hips. Enjolras himself was sat on the sofa, in his pyjama bottoms and an old threadbare t-shirt, laptop uncharacteristically missing from the scene.

“Yes?” Grantaire raised his eyebrows.

“Can we talk?” Enjolras asked, gesturing to the sofa so Grantaire moved and sat down at the end

“Sure.” He continued rubbing his hair, trying to towel dry his crazy curls in some attempt at calming them down – he’d not found a successful method yet and was very, very desperate.

“I wanted to apologise for giving you that-” And here he eyed Grantaire’s neck wearily, the mark Grantaire knew was there, the mark that proved nothing whatsoever.

“Hickey?” Grantaire asked, God this was embarrassing, someone kill him right now, “It’s fine you weren’t awake properly, I understand honestly.”

“I still wanted to apologise.”

“Enjolras it’s okay.” Grantaire reassured him, “It was my fault for pulling you down just because I wanted a hug.”

“No, I could have gotten up but it was warm and you’re comfy and I fell asleep.” Enjolras confessed, “It was the best night’s sleep I’ve had for a long time. I forgot how nice it is to have someone to share a bed with. Hell, I forgot how nice it was to have someone else live with me, to have company and someone else just there.”

“Less lonely.” Grantaire agreed and Enjolras met his eyes, a soft smile on his face.

There was so much in the curve of his lips, so much of what could be gratitude or happiness, affection maybe if Grantaire was lucky enough. No, he told himself, he was lucky enough, he felt affection for Enjolras’ friends, the way they accepted him so readily, so kindly and warmly. So yes, he thought Enjolras was putting his affection in that smile. And if not that, then some kind of friendship.

“Yeah,” He nodded, the smile not fading. “Less lonely.”

 

-

 

“Is that all for this meeting?” Enjolras asked, Grantaire watched him look around his friends, wondering if he’d forgotten something or missed a point out.

“The protest still needs a speaker.” Combeferre spoke, eyes running over his notes, lips pressed together. He normally sat next to Courfeyrac, but since the Jehan thing, he’d moved next to Grantaire’s other side. Courfeyrac’s pained puppy dog face every time Combeferre ignored him was enough to break even Grantaire’s non-existent heart.

“Ah.” Enjolras nodded, keeping his eyes on the table instead of at Grantaire and hell no.

“Why don’t I know about a protest?” Grantaire asked, eyebrows raised because honestly, he was inevitably going to find out, why even try to keep it from at this point?

“Because it’s going to be big and I need to speak at it but I know you won’t let me.” Enjolras answered, at least now he was looking Grantaire in the eye. There was a significant amount of guilt in there. “It’s not for a while though so we don’t need to worry about it.”

“Right.” Grantaire nodded, “I expect all the information through tonight.”

“Send a copy to Joly and I too please.” Cosette piped up from her place between Éponine and Marius, as she looked up from the notes she’d been writing.

And surprisingly Enjolras didn’t fight, just nodded his head and answered, “Okay.”

 

-

 

There was a soft knock at Grantaire’s door which made him look up from the newest death threats he’d been reading. Cosette was still sending him possibilities but with the help of Joly they were closing open threads and working relentlessly to find whoever was behind all this.

“Enjolras?” He blinked over at the blond and then the clock because holy shit, when did it get that late?

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep and I saw the light was on, can I sleep in here?” Enjolras asked, hesitantly. He seemed unsure of himself and it was wrong on his face, normally so sure of himself, so confident. He looked tired. So tired. “I felt lonely and I promise I won’t start eating your neck.”

“Sure, I could do with sleep.” Grantaire stretched and got up, climbing into the bed with little grace but then it was past midnight and his eyes felt like a sandstorm so who really cared, right?

Enjolras slipped under the covers quickly, laying stiff as a board next to Grantaire who plunged the room into darkness. And yeah it probably wasn’t professional but there wasn’t anything against it in his contract, he was supposed to make his clients’ lives easier and if cuddling them when they felt lonely was part that then he wasn’t going to say no.

“This feels like a stupid idea.” Enjolras whispered to Grantaire in the darkness, voice

“Because you’re not relaxed.” Grantaire countered, “Come here.”

“Where? Fuck, did I hit your nose?” Enjolras asked, bumping into Grantaire as he shuffled closer.

“No, I’m fine, here.” Grantaire wrapped an arm around Enjolras’ waist and pulled him towards him, their heads bumped together before they settled, Grantaire turned and then they were spooning, Enjolras fitting around the brunet like he belonged and- no don’t think that.

Their legs tangled together and Enjolras slung an arm around Grantaire’s waist, pulling him back a little in a manner that was nothing but protective. Grantaire smiled, feeling Enjolras nuzzled into his back, breathing slowing. He felt his own eyes close, his heart beat slow and his body relax. Soon they were both fast asleep.

And that’s how they started sharing a bed.

 

-

 

Enjolras approached his office with caution, Grantaire a little behind him, caught up in a rush of people leaving the elevator. On the desk was a letter, his name scrawled across it in an elegant calligraphy style, a singular purple rose laid across it. Another one.

He paused, getting a weird look from one of his co-workers and turned to find Grantaire and instead crashed into Montparnasse, recognisable for the aftershave that frequently assaulted his nostrils when his office mate was around.

“Enjolras, watch where you’re going or you’re going to get hurt.” Montparnasse told him, giving him a look and Enjolras frowned. He really didn’t need this shit today. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“You have any idea who left this on my desk?”

“No, I just got here.” Montparnasse answered, moving past him to get to his desk, dumping his fancy suit jacket on the chair and his bag on the desk. “Where’s that guy?”

“Assuming you mean me, I’m right here, I brought you coffee, Enjolras.” Grantaire announced, passing the cup of coffee to the blond who smiled gratefully and sighed happily.

“And none for me?” Montparnasse pouted.

“Well the coffee maker still has some in but I’d get there before Hucheloup does, she seems to be on a rampage today.” Grantaire replied, not hiding his disdain for the man on the next desk over. Montparnasse’s eyes seemed to darken but he put a polite smile on his lips.

“Fine.” Montparnasse rolled his perfectly made up eyes before winking at Enjolras, “See you later E.”

And then he slunk off in search of coffee, like a snake or some other slithery creature and Grantaire wanted to sink a knife into his skin. There was something off about Montparnasse.

“I can’t stand that guy.” Grantaire growled, eyes narrowed.

“I know but we have more important things.” Enjolras nodded towards the desk, to the letter he was dying to read and the rose that stunk of perfume.

Grantaire followed Enjolras eyes, paused a second and then burst into motion.

 

-

 

“’Taire?” Enjolras spoke into the darkness of the room, he was laid a few centimetres from Grantaire but it felt like miles, especially when they’d gotten use to spooning or using one of them as a pillow or however else they woke up in the mornings.

“Yeah?” Grantaire answered and he sounded tired, his words bitten off into a yawn that Enjolras echoed. Well at least Enjolras had some kind of empathy with him then.

“You know the rally, I’d really like to speak there – the others, the others are great but-”

“It’s your thing, I know, I’m trying Enjolras. I’m reading through everything and I sent the information to Cosette, Joly and Valjean so we’re going to see if we can find anyway for you to do it safely, but in the end, we might not be able to let you.” Grantaire explained and Enjolras expected that, “Our job is to protect you and I can’t – I won’t - actively put you in a situation where you’re likely to get hurt.”

“I understand.” Enjolras nodded into the darkness.

“I-I’ve had a case like this before and it, it went wrong. Majorly wrong.” Grantaire spoke, his voice breaking slightly, “So, I’m not thrilled to have you speak so publicly and so out in the open without me right beside you.”

“What happened?” Enjolras asked, because this was it, he could sense, it was this case that had changed him, this case that had made him who he was today.

“I’d rather not talk about it, it’s late and I- the nightmares get worse when I talk about it.” Grantaire confessed. His voice trembled and Enjolras hated that, hated whatever had happened to Grantaire.

“Well then,” Enjolras decided, moving over to lay his head on Grantaire’s chest, he threw an arm across the brunet and Grantaire pulled him closer in response, which Enjolras really shouldn’t be so happy about that, “I’ll just have to keep them away.”

 

-

 

“You look well rested.” Éponine said as she perched on the edge of the table in front of Enjolras. Cosette and Grantaire talking in hushed tones a little away from them as Enjolras fiddled with the papers for the meeting, trying not to overhear. He’d heard his name a few times.

“I’ve been sleeping better lately.” Enjolras confessed, purposely not looking in her eyes because he might give something away if he did.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” And obviously she pushed because that’s who she was, normally he loved that about her, but not when she directed it at him.

“No clue, maybe I feel safer now I know Grantaire is the next room over.” He answered, now looking at her because he knew she knew and she knew he knew she knew.

“Next room over my arse.” Éponine snorted, throwing her head back before grinning at him from under her bangs.

“Excuse me?”

“You left your bedroom door open when Cosette and I came to get you and I know you don’t make your bed, I do. So I know you haven’t been sleeping in it because it looks exactly the same as last time I was over.” She raised an eyebrow, “And obviously, you could have been sleeping on the sofa, but why would you? Especially when you have two beds. One of which has a man you’re very attracted to in.”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Enjolras just looked at her and she grinned back at him.

“I know I’m smart, Enj’ and I know you and R are sharing a bed.” She replied, voice getting quieter, “I also know you can’t have a romantic or sexual relationship with your bodyguard.”

“We’re not- Éponine, we’re just sleeping, in the literal sense, I got lonely by myself and he gives he best hugs and he has nightmares. And yeah, okay I like him but I know we could never be because Grantaire would lose his job and-”

“It was just a warning.” She cut him off, “I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

“Nothing is going to happen, Ép.”

 

-

 

“Something happened, Ép.”

“I fucking knew it. What happened?”

“I kissed Grantaire.”

“You know what? No, I can’t deal with this.”

“’Ponine.”

“No, sort this out yourself.”


	2. He's My Bodyguard

“Enjolras.” Grantaire’s voice trickled under the bathroom door and fuck this could not be happening. How had he fucked up this badly? How has his life turned into a RomCom gone wrong? God, Éponine must be an oracle or a prophet or something.

“Enjolras isn’t here right now.” Enjolras called back, wincing because that was stupid, apparently kissing Grantaire had killed all his brain cells. He was calling witchcraft, someone burn Grantaire at the stake.

“Really?” Grantaire’s tone changed from concern to sarcasm so quickly, it felt almost normal. Well normal if Enjolras hadn’t been hiding in the bathroom from his bodyguard after losing his self-control and kissing said bodyguard because honestly who let bodyguards be that hot? “You gonna tell me to leave a message after the beep too?”

“Yes…”

“Enjolras, come on, come out of the bathroom.” And now sarcasm melted into exasperation and Enjolras was hit with déjà vu.

“I don’t want to.” Enjolras called back, eyeing the door warily because he knew Grantaire and his skills and knew if he really wanted he could burst through that door like it was made of butter. Fuck butter.

“We need to talk.” 

“You’re talking right now.” 

“I meant face to face, are you purposely trying to antagonise me- you know what, no, that’s not the issue here, it’s like karma right for all the times I’ve done that to you. The issue is you kissed me and then ran away.” 

“Thank you for pointing out my mistake so bluntly.” Enjolras retorted and felt his face match the temperature as the depths of hell because as Courfeyrac would say, hashtag embarrassing. God, not even his baby pictures caused this much mortification. 

“Enjolras, just open the door.” And authoritative Grantaire shouldn’t really turn Enjolras on as much as it did, but such was his life. Would the floor just eat him now please?

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m embarrassed!” Enjolras snapped, shouting at the door and Grantaire beyond it, “I kissed you when you didn’t want me to, not to mention it’s probably against a rule in your contract and I don’t want to face the inevitable rejection that’ll happen when I open the damn door.”

“Jesus Christ.” And he actually had the audacity to whistle and that was what got Enjolras up, on his feet and across the room, yanking the door open in a sudden wave of anger. Anger at himself for liking Grantaire and for losing his self-control, anger at Grantaire for being a fucking nerd and being impossible for Enjolras not to fall for, anger at their situation and the world and ugh. 

“God, you’re insufferable.”

“Says the guy who just exiled himself in the bathroom because he kissed me.” Grantaire had better not be raising his fucking eyebrow. Enjolras looked. He was raising his fucking eyebrow. He was an asshole. Enjolras was head over heels for him. 

“Can we just forget this ever happened?” Enjolras met his eyes and he really wanted nothing more than to forget this whole morning was ever a thing. He also wanted copious amounts of alcohol and a shed load of blankets to snuggle under in self-pity. 

“Nope.” Yes, Grantaire popped the ‘p’ and moved so his arms and his chest where blocking the doorframe and effectively trapping Enjolras in the bathroom because he was going nowhere near Grantaire’s comfy chest and magic arms. They made him loose control. “I take from the fact you kissed me that means you like me?”

“I do have more than platonic feelings for you, yes.” Enjolras admitted and it felt stupid, he felt like he was twelve and going through his first crush, especially with the way Grantaire was looking at him, like he knew something Enjolras didn’t.

“Fuck.”

“I know and I know you don’t feel the same-”

“No, that’s not, Enjolras, I may have more than platonic feelings for you too.” Grantaire admitted and his eyes were serious and unwavering as they looked into Enjolras’ and what the fuck was going on right now?

“Then that’s a good thing right?” Even Enjolras could sense the optimism in his voice. He sounded like a puppy begging for a treat and that was really not a visual he needed. 

“Well, if we were normal people, yes.” Grantaire relented, “As our situation is, no, it’s not a good thing. I can’t have a romantic or sexual relationship with you whilst I’m involved with the protection of you or your friends. You must’ve seen ‘The Bodyguard’ seen the effects of it.”

“Surely if we don’t tell anyone-”

“No, Enjolras.” Grantaire turned his head, clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, “We can’t. I-I I tried before with a client and it, it ended badly and it was my fault.”

“Grantaire-”

“No, Enjolras, we’re done talking about this.” Grantaire turned and slumped off to his room, closing the door behind him for the first time since Enjolras had started sleeping in his bed. 

 

-

 

“What the actual fuck Grantaire?” Enjolras shouted barging into the brunet’s bedroom without knocking, because he deserved the invasion of privacy because what the hell? Éponine had read the expression on his face and made Cosette stay behind with her in the living room and he was forever thankful for that. He didn’t need them to see hurricane Pissed Off, Heartbroken, Enjolras at its peak. 

The door hit the wall with such a force he knew there’s be a mark there just from the sound, but he didn’t care. Not with the fury and hurt pounding through his body with every heartbeat, not with the fact Grantaire was leaving.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” The brunet snapped, glaring at Enjolras as he hastily shoved his clothes into the duffle bag Jehan had brought to him when Grantaire first moved in and it was so fucking wrong Enjolras wanted to scream. 

“Haven’t you heard of telling your protectee when you’re going to swap them for another?” And he couldn’t deal with Grantaire’s stupid face all closed off and unfriendly or his stupid decisions or his stupid arms or stupid everything else. 

“So Cosette and Éponine are here then?” And he raised his stupid eyebrows. Again.

Enjolras should hate him. Really, everything about Grantaire rubbed him up the wrong way – and yeah, he was regretting that choice of words – but it was true. Everything about Grantaire, from his cynicism to his fucking magic arms made Enjolras’ skin crawl but instead of filling him with a loathing like no other, Enjolras had to fuck it all up and started to actually like Grantaire and his witty arguments and his cuddliness. And he was pissed about that because Grantaire was leaving him. 

“I shouldn’t have had to find out through them, Grantaire, you should have told me yourself!” Enjolras yelled, he couldn’t be losing Grantaire now, not now, “Fuck it, you shouldn’t even be leaving, you should be staying here to protect me.”

“Enjolras, I can’t!” Grantaire snapped back and he moved towards the blond, his eyes went different, narrower, his jaw set and his fists clenched. Enjolras backed off, flat against the wall as Grantaire moved forward, towards him. “I can’t stay because I like you, really like you. I can’t be around you when I know I could just kiss you and you wouldn’t even try to stop me, I can’t act like this is nothing when you’re literally all I’m required to think about for my job, I can’t sleep with you all over me when I know I’ll never sleep properly again without you. I’m too involved with you. It’s safer to have Cosette take over.”

“How is it?” 

“Because if we were attacked, I couldn’t trust you to try not to protect me, I couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t put yourself in danger to try to stop me from getting hurt.” Grantaire replied and now he was directly in front of Enjolras, their chests touching. “It’s part of who you are, if someone you care about is in danger then you have to stop the threat, it’s a basic instinct with you and it would get you killed if you tried to protect me.”

And Jesus fucking Christ, when did they get so close? Enjolras could feel Grantaire’s breath on his face, could smell the shampoo he used for his hair, could count the hairs in his unruly eyebrows, could just lean forward and kiss him-

-but no, he even fucked that up with his stupid feelings of betrayal and hurt and fuck Grantaire, “So you’ll run away and pass me to someone else?”

“I’m not- no, you know what, yes, that is what I’m doing, but I’m doing it for you, I’m doing it to save you Enjolras, I won’t lose someone I love again, I won’t have your death on my conscience.” 

“So you’re going to leave, you’re going to abandon me?” Enjolras forced himself to see the rawness of Grantaire’s eyes, forced himself not to notice the hands either side of him against the wall, forced himself to be unaffected by this. 

“Cosette is protecting you and I’ll protect Éponine-”

“And so what if we get attacked together the four of us, if you claim to have feelings for me, claim it’s natural instinct to protect those we love, won’t you protect me? And if Cosette is protecting me as well then whose protecting my best friend?” Enjolras narrowed his eyes and he wanted nothing more than to run his hands through Grantaire’s hair, “Who’s stopping Éponine from being killed?”

“We’ve had training to prevent-”

“Training can’t override basic instinct and if she died, I may as well die too.” Enjolras snapped, pushing Grantaire away from him, turning to leave because he just couldn’t anymore. Not with Grantaire so close, not with Éponine’s life on the line, not with the hurt eating him alive. But Grantaire caught his arm, and whirled to face him before yanking his arm from Grantaire’s grip. “If you really wanted to save me, you’d stay. You’d stay Grantaire, and you’d do your fucking job.”

 

-

 

“Stop moping.” Éponine shoved Grantaire’s legs off of her lap and glared at her crappy TV – her apartment was rough around the edges, most things acquired from charity shops or stolen with some drunken memory attached. But it suited her and Gavroche in a way nothing else would have. 

“He’s right though.” Grantaire sighed and he really wanted a drink to deal with but he couldn’t, perils of having to be alert 24/7. “If we were attacked I’d try to protect him over you. I’m sorry ‘Ponine.”

“Don’t be – I’m used to not being anyone’s first.” She shrugged like it was a known fact, like she shouldn’t expect to be better. Grantaire related but he hated to see that resigned attitude in her. She was worth a thousand of anyone. 

“Éponine, don’t say that, you’re Gavroche’s first and Enjolras’.” Grantaire frowned at her and she rolled her eyes but rested her head on his shoulder. “And I’m betting you’re Cosette and Marius’ first.”

“Yeah I guess.” She laughed and it was light and he knew she didn’t believe him. They really needed to work on that because Grantaire knew there was something going on with the last two but the look on Éponine’s face closed down any further conversation on the topic. “Hey, what happened with your last client?”

“Hmm?”

“Cosette mentioned something in passing and earlier you said you wouldn’t lose someone again and I want to know.” Éponine spoke like every word was calculated, like she was choosing her way through this little by little. “We have a right to know, if it’s going to affect your job.”

“I- okay, so it’s kind of heavy stuff, all very tragic sounding. Right.” Grantaire took deep breaths in and out because sometimes when he lingered on the past he forgot to breath entirely and no, he could do this. “So my last client was called Floréal and she was just something else completely. I fell in love with her and for some reason she fell for me. It’s against every rule in my contract and I knew that, but I was young and stupid and thought love could overrule everything. We thought we could get away with it and so we started dating.

“And it was all great and we weren’t at danger of being caught but she had to deliver a speech at this protest because it was absolutely vital for her campaign and I was stupidly in love and didn’t want to let her down. So I organised it all with the help of the agency and it would have been safe if only the agency hadn’t have had a mole. Someone leaked everything to the group that wanted her dead, someone high up too because they orchestrated a mandatory guard switch. 

“Normally I would’ve fought it and stayed with her but she’d just told me she loved me for the first time and I was too doped up on her to think straight so I went with it even though I didn’t recognise my replacement guard, even though things like that aren’t normally a thing at such a high level of threat. That’s the biggest regret of my life, that I didn’t stop and think because I could’ve stopped it. I heard the gunshot just as I got into my new position and I knew I’d let someone who wanted to kill her do just that. Words can’t describe anything in that moment.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, ‘Taire.” And then Éponine’s arms were around him and he clung on tightly because it didn’t get easier like they said it would. Every time he told the story, even the highlights, he saw it again, felt everything and normally he was better at hiding it, but too much had happened so quickly, his emotions were too wild and unpredictable.

“It’s fine, I should’ve told you all, but I knew Enjolras would never let me protect him if he’d have known and I wanted this case so much.” Grantaire admitted.

“What happened?”

“I was questioned and evaluated and I managed to cover my relationship with Floréal with the help of my friends. I was taken out of field work, went through therapy for years, went through training again and was re-evaluated, tested, more training, more evaluations. They put me on office work for a long time and then I got moved onto responding to pleas for cases, which is where I met you. I only got put on this case because we’re low on bodyguards and this is an orange case – not as deadly as a red but still dangerous. I tried to get someone else on this case, tried to flunk everything they threw at me but my boss thought I was ready and Cosette backed him and so that’s why I got Enjolras’ case. I should have told you all before but I never thought something like this would happen again. I never thought I’d fall for Enjolras the way I fell for Floréal.”

“What was she like?” Éponine asked, eyeing him with nothing but affection and he was really glad for her, glad for all of them. “She sounds incredible.”

“She was. She was really something. She was funny, passionate about everything and could convince anyone to side with her in an argument that’s why she was such a great activist, because she never gave up. She used to get ice cream based on the colour of her top so if it dripped it wouldn’t show up.” Grantaire sighed and he felt himself smile, “But as much as I loved her, she was also kind of a brat. She had anger issues, she’d pick fights with everyone, she argued with me a lot, went against my orders of protection, she was rude and uncaring and her main solution to everything was anarchy.”

“She sounds a lot like Enjolras.” 

“There are similarities between them but there’s also differences. Where she was cruel, Enjolras is human – don’t get me wrong he can be terrible, but he knows how people work and he knows how to work them for his advantage, knows that insulting someone, calling them useless and pathetic isn’t going to get them to join his side. He knows how people work, how they’re all different but Floréal didn’t understand that. Enjolras sees love where Floréal didn’t.” Grantaire sighed, “And a part of me will always love Floréal for what she was and what she wasn’t, another, larger part of me has moved on and that’s thanks to all of you at Les Amis.”

“I-I’m glad you got Enjolras’ case.” Éponine said, looking up at Grantaire, her eyes big and brown and full of honesty. He liked Éponine, she didn’t bullshit people, she spoke her mind in a blunt but inoffensive manner. 

“Thank you, ‘Ponine.”

“No, I really am, you’re good for us, good for Enjolras, so is Cosette and Joly and all the others you’ve brought to us.” She pressed on and he sensed this was important to her and he realised it was important to him too. “You ground us, remind us we’re only human, that we can be hurt or killed. We need you whether you like it or not.”

“Maybe I like it quite a lot?” Grantaire really did love all of the colourful people that made up Les Amis, he didn’t know if he could move on after this job, if he could not have them in his life. He knew he didn’t want to not have them there with him. “I don’t want to lose you, any of you.”

Éponine smiled then, bright and genuine and beautiful. She slumped against Grantaire and he smiled into her hair as they focused on the crappy TV program. “Good because none of us want to lose you either.”

 

-

 

“Sorry Enjolras, I know you and R had the weird co-dependency thing going on, but you’re not sleeping in my bed.” Cosette announced as he sat on the other end of the sofa from her, her hair up in a messy bus, wearing an old t-shirt and boxers. She was reading more death threats which shouldn’t be as normal as it was. 

“I expected that.” Enjolras replied, eyes flickering to his laptop screen as it whirred to life before he looked at her. She was looking back with a weird expression on her face and he simply raised an eyebrow at her.

“Good.” 

“I’m sorry, that we took you from Éponine.” Enjolras said and he wasn’t sure why but it felt right to say. He wasn’t as dense as Courfeyrac made out, he knew something was going on between them and he hated that he’d ruined it, Éponine deserved happiness and so did Cosette.

“Don’t be, it’s probably for the best. ‘Taire wasn’t the only bodyguard at risk of breaking the ‘no romantic or sexual relationships with your client’ rule.” Cosette sighed, putting the letter down on the sofa between them and turning to face Enjolras. “Actually I would have been in even bigger trouble than R.”  
.  
“Why?”

“Because it’s not just one client.” She admitted, her face enflaming with blood, highlighting her cheekbones and he could see what Éponine found so captivating about her. Cosette was full of life and light and love and he felt himself smile. 

“I don’t follow.”

“You know Éponine has feelings for Marius right?” Cosette asked and Enjolras nodded, Éponine had cried it into his pillows enough times for it to be apparent, not he’d tell anyone on pain of death obviously, “So maybe Marius had feelings for her too and maybe my sudden appearance stopped them from getting together because they think I’m pretty or funny or whatever and then it’s a clusterfuck of feelings and none of us knew what to do and I told them not to sacrifice their happiness for me, because they deserve it. But then, they talked and they said they wanted me too and it wouldn’t be fair because their relationship would hurt me and then everything would get weird so we decided to wait until I’m no longer a bodyguard.”

“Is that likely in the near future?” Enjolras asked, because surely he and Grantaire could do the same, right? But that was a big ask and not one Enjolras could make of Grantaire, it had to be Grantaire’s choice and Grantaire’s choice alone.

“I’m thinking of quitting after this case is solved.” Cosette admitted, “I haven’t told anyone yet, so please don’t say – especially not to R. I only became a body guard because my father owns the agency and I do love it, I love what it’s taught me, the skills and experience I have because of it, the people I’ve met and protected. But I’m getting older and I want my own life back.

“I want to go to places because I want to not because of someone else has a meeting or a speech to give there, I want to be free to go dancing and to flirt with cute people, to travel the world for more than just work, I want to go home to the same apartment each night and know that I won’t have to go on a mission the next day, I want a relationship and friends. It’s selfish I know it is but this is just such a demanding job, it takes everything from you and I want everything back.”

“It’s not selfish, I understand what you mean.” Enjolras told her, he’d never thought about all she’d given up to be on this job, all Grantaire or Joly had, or any of their other friends. It must be so hard. 

“Thank you.” She smiled, “Hey, you’re good at writing, maybe you can help me write it all into a speech that even my father can’t argue with?”

“I’ll help if you want, god knows I owe you so much already.” Enjolras grinned back.

“Good, we might have to get onto it soon, the death threats are getting more regular and more graphic too – whoever they are, they really want you dead.”

“Can I look?” Enjolras asked, and Cosette nodded before handing him the letter. Enjolras scanned it before he registered the smell, thick and expensive perfume he recognised, the writing an elegant scrawl Enjolras had seen on many notepads and forms, he could even hear their voice, oily and slick as they described in detail Enjolras’ death. “Fuck.”

“What?” Cosette raised an eyebrow.

“I know whose handwriting this is.”

 

-

 

Grantaire took a deep breath as he pushed the door open into Enjolras and Montparnasse’s office, the rest of the building behind him was eerily quiet, perks of arriving early to pack up his things to avoid seeing the client/boss he was sort of in love with. C’est la vie. He didn’t have much in Enjolras’ office, just some notepads, pens, a calendar, a spare jacket, a potted plant of dubious heritage.

But God, did it bring back a ton of memories. Of the lunches they had and the conversations, debates on Enjolras’ social justice club or on the proper use of punctuation, the lingering glances and touches, the put downs they thought of and wrote down to use on Montparnasse, the jokes and the work they did, the red annotations on Enjolras’ articles. He’d miss it as much as he missed sharing a bed with Enjolras, as much as he missed the fancy ass coffee maker Enjolras had bought, as much as he’d missed Enjolras. 

But no, enough of that. Packing, start packing. 

Grantaire slowly put his belongings in the box he’d picked out, thinking of the memories attached to each, sitting in Enjolras’ chair because he’d never been allowed before and then-  
.  
“Ooh, are you packing?” Montparnasse asked from the doorway, his suit immaculately fitted as per usual and he never got any less attractive, only snakier as time went on. He moved over to his desk and hopped up on it, gracefully, watching Grantaire bustle around the office and honestly, why was Grantaire expecting Montparnasse to offer help? Especially when it might ruin one of his freshly manicured nails. 

“I might have gotten fired.” Grantaire admitted, that was his cover story – Cosette was his replacement, it made sense but it still hurt to say. 

“What did you do?”

“I got his coffee order wrong once.” Grantaire replied – another part of his cover story but a likely part. Montparnasse knew of Enjolras’ love of coffee, knew how angry Enjolras could get. He’d believe it. 

“Harsh.” Montparnasse raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t pretend you even liked me, I bet you’re glad I’m going.”

“No, whatever dislike I exhibited was out of attraction. I apologise.” Montparnasse shrugged and what the fuck? This did not happen to Grantaire.

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t bullshit people, I thought you’d learnt that in your time here.” 

“But you’re all over Enjolras.” Grantaire frowned – he and Enjolras weren’t in the same league, they weren’t even in the same game. Enjolras was hot and Grantaire was… not.

“Well he looks like a God, can you blame me?” Montparnasse rolled his eyes, leaning against his desk like some kind of model and Grantaire couldn’t believe someone so narcissitic could actually exist. “But you do too, though he’s all elegance and ivory, you’re grungy and sexy and delicious.”

“Okay, you’re high.” Grantaire frowned at him from across the room.

“I’m not Grantaire and I was serious about all the offers in the supply cupboard, hell we could even do it on his desk, that’d be a real fuck you to Enjolras, would it not?”

“As great as that sounds, I’m going to have to turn you down.” Grantaire slipped out from between Montparnasse and the desk, picking up his box of things and then he was moving towards the door.

He was pretty sure he heard Montparnasse growl in irritation or something but whatever it was had been drowned out by the sudden pain. His arms lost grip of his box and he vaguely heard it crash as the floor rushed up to his face.

 

-

“Hey there Sleeping Beauty.” Courfeyrac’s voice filtered through the darkness to Grantaire, as he opened his eyes to the brightness of the room. Judging by the smell and the steady beeping of the heart monitor, Grantaire was in the hospital. He fucking hated hospitals. 

“God, you look like shit.” Grantaire answered, but it came out like a growl, his throat hurt so much and felt like a desert or like he’d been singing non-stop in a screamo band for days. But it was true, Courfeyrac’s eyes lay on a bed of deep purple, his hair was twice its regular size and his clothes weren’t technicoloured like Grantaire expected. 

“You should see yourself.” Courfeyrac fired back and his lips turned up into a smirk but it was a pale imitation of what it could have been, “We’ve all been so worried about you.”

“Why?”

“You got shot.” And that was most certainly not Courfeyrac’s voice – unless he’d gotten good at impressions and talking without opening his mouth. And then Courfeyrac was forced from Grantaire’s vision and Enjolras was there, pulling him into his arms, “Grantaire, you got shot.”

“Hey, Apollo.” Grantaire smiled, allowing himself to nuzzle into the blond’s neck, his curls tickling his nose and his smell washing through him. “At least now you can say I told you so.”

“No. I-not like this R.” Enjolras let go of him and if Courfeyrac looked like shit, Enjolras looked a thousand times worse. His skin looked like it had been mixed with ash, grey and sickly, his eyes were bloodshot and his hair was, quite frankly, a natural disaster n his normally pretty head. But he still made Grantaire’s heart ache. “God, you scared me so much R, I thought you were dead when we found you.”

“Sorry?”

“No, don’t – just, just let me hold you please?” And who was Grantaire to deny Enjolras, especially when his eyes were full of worry and he looked so sad and desperate. 

“Fine.” Grantaire made a show of relenting but Enjolras knew it was fake as he pulled Grantaire into his arms, as he played with the brunet’s curls, as he felt his heart beating in his chest. 

God, Grantaire had never been so in love. 

 

-

 

“So what happened exactly?” Grantaire asked Cosette. Enjolras had stopped terrorising the nurses and after being told, bribed, threatened and finally forced to go rest back at his apartment - Jehan and Bahorel were covering for Grantaire and Cosette since the former was injured and the latter had used the classic ‘my best friend almost died card’ to visit him. 

“Well it’s kind of a shitstorm.” Cosette looked over at him from where she was sat on the windowsill, knees up to her chest, the sun kissing her skin and hair, making it glow like gold. 

“Please explain because all I got from Enjolras was nonsense.” Grantaire pleaded. 

“To be fair, you did almost die and he’s like stupidly in love with you so, he was warranted that kind of reaction.” Cosette pointed out and it made the heart monitor go a little funny because that was a fact now, apparently. “You know it’s only because Enjolras recognised Montparnasse’s handwriting on the latest death note that we realised he was part of the group?”

“I think someone mentioned that at some point yeah.” Grantaire nodded. 

“I contacted the agency pretty much after Enjolras was sure, obviously, they all acted and got everyone over there – Jehan, Irma, ‘Chetta, ‘Rel and that - apparently too late because all we found was you out cold and laid in a sizeable puddle of blood. Anyway, we split up, I brought you here with Enjolras and the others went to track Montparnasse, who hadn’t gotten all that far. So now he’s with Interpol, I think they borrowed Musichetta and Jehan for a bit to help out with that. The others are all resting and trying to catch up on what happened.”

“He’ll crack if they’re all on to it.” Grantaire felt himself smile because his friends were truly amazing people and he was blessed to have known them all. 

“Hopefully.” Cosette nodded, “Papa got some other bodyguards to cover the rest of Les Amis, so they’re all under protection until we dig up the rest of Montparnasse’s group.”

“Patron-Minette.”

“But an offshoot, since we shut down the main body of their gang, Montparnasse got away and formed his own organisation.” Cosette explained. “But we’ll get them again, I know we will.”

“So then what happens after we’ve got them all?” Grantaire asked, because once a client was safe they moved on, but if Enjolras gained a new enemy then Grantaire still couldn’t be with him. 

“Well, combine your wound and your senior age, you could retire.” Cosette suggested with a shrug like she hadn’t basically implied he was senile, which rude. Thank you very much, he didn’t even have his first wrinkle yet.

“Cosette, I’m not even thirty yet, plus you’re only a month younger than me.”

“Not the point, hear me out, you could retire from field work and get yourself a super-hot, super into you, boyfriend. I suggested to Papa that he trains you for his role for when he inevitably needs to retire, you’d be good at it, calling the shots and helping everyone with their assignments.” Cosette continued and he knew she’d been thinking about this for a long time from the determined look in her eyes. He felt vaguely betrayed. 

“But that’s your position.” Grantaire protested, because it was. As Valjean’s child, it was Cosette that would take the agency on and though Grantaire would love to do that job, he couldn’t take that from her. 

“It’s really not, I don’t want it and you have to want it to be good at it. I’ve been thinking for a long time actually; I’m going to retire.” She confessed, lowering her eyes to the floor so he could only see her perfectly eyeshadowed eyelids. 

“’Sette, you’re one of the best bodyguards-”

“But I don’t want to be a bodyguard anymore.” Cosette’s eyes flashed up to his and though the shock at her statement was ebbing away now, the shock at her anger was not. She frowned and got up from her seat against the window and moving across the room with speed to take Grantaire’s hand in her own as she settled on his bed. “I want my own life, I want to live for me and not because someone else is living and I have to protect them, I want romantic relationships and friends, god I want friends I get to see every day, friends that live five minutes away from me instead of across the world, I want to settle down, get my own house, a stable job, eventually have a family. I want to be safe and not always risking my neck for someone else. And it’s selfish, I know that, but I want it more than anything.” 

“I understand.” Grantaire squeezed her hand and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, “And I will support you in every way I can so you can get all that. I know Valjean will too.”

“Good because your boyfriend has already written me ten speeches whilst we were waiting for you to wake up.” Cosette smiled at him. “Obviously, I got Courf’ to go through them and add in the dramatics – like door slamming and crying.”

“Obviously.” He grinned back, god he loved these nerds.

“But seriously think about retiring, we can’t do this job forever, plus you’ve had a rough go of it lately with clients and falling in love with them and getting hurt. And you’ve got a hot twenty-four-year-old pinning after you right now.” Cosette winked at him.

“Don’t act like you don’t have two hot twenty-four-year-olds pining after you.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow at her because she thought she was subtle. As subtle as the world ending. Maybe he should become a comedian instead. 

“What?” Her exclamation was weakened by the roses on her cheeks, “How?”

“And you thought I didn’t notice the way you three looked at each other.” Grantaire scrunched up his nose and bopped her own because honestly, his best friend was adorable with her obliviousness. “You’ve forgotten I have the same training as you.”

“For fuck’s sake, I knew recruiting my best friend was going to stab me in the back one day.” She growled but she was smiling and she looked happy. That made Grantaire happy.

“Hey, if it’s any help, you’re obvious - like, Combeferre being in love with Courfeyrac.” Grantaire teased. 

“But you love me for it.” Cosette teased, nudging him with her own bony shoulder.

“I do, and so do Marius and Éponine.” Because he couldn’t resist the opening she’d left him. 

Cosette just threw her head back and groaned, “Oh for God’s sake.” 

 

-

Grantaire heard Musichetta long before she materialised in the doorway. She seemed to be impossibly loud in the lulled quiet of the early morning, he heard her bark orders into her phone, switching between Spanish and English and French with ease, heard the clack of her heels on the linoleum, the jingle of her thirty something bracelets and he grinned. 

The nurses had said he could leave as soon as someone came to pick him up, his bullet wound was healing nicely, his bloods were good, they didn’t need to observe him any longer. Grantaire had been expecting Cosette seeing as she wasn’t that far away – but of course she’d be working. So that left another agent, since Grantaire couldn’t protect himself at the moment without risk of getting hurt again. Apparently, that agent was Musichetta. 

“So you didn’t bite the bullet then, huh?” She smirked from the doorway, her red dress falling around her knees gracefully and her tight curls cascading down her back, phone nowhere in sight and he really didn’t want to know where she’d put it. God she hadn’t changed. 

“Why did I expect a ‘dios mío R, you got shot, are you okay?’ and not a pun as soon as I saw you again?” Grantaire asked, raising an eyebrow. Her grin just grew as she floated over to him and flopped on the bed by his feet. 

“Sorry, it was a shot in the dark that you’d take it well.” She fired back, her eyes sparkling with just how much she was enjoying this. 

“Please stop.”

“I’m not throwing away my shot, R.” 

“It’s really not appropriate.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m kind of jumping the gun.” She winked and he had to laugh. He didn’t want to. But he had to. 

“Why am I friends with you?”

“Because I interrogate the bad guys, get them to squeal like pigs and then round up the rest of the group that were threatening your little protectee.” She shrugged, “Or something like that.”

“You found them all?” Grantaire asked and he felt a spurt of optimism firing in his blood, Enjolras would be so proud.

“We did. Montparnasse cracked when we threatened his face and unleashed Jehan onto him - those two had a weird insult flirty thing going on, I don’t know, but Jehan used whatever he had over Montparnasse like a badass and he confessed. So, we got all the members and we’re questioning them too – we’ve got an idea of who hired them and we’ve already sent Irma out to go retrieve them.”

“Hell hath no fury like Irma Boissy on a mission.” Grantaire remarked and it was the truth, Irma had been Floréal’s best friend and signed up to the agency after her death – she hadn’t blamed Grantaire, not once, but instead supported him through everything and stuck up for him through thick and thin.

“She said to tell you that you’re an idiot for getting shot.” Musichetta leaned back, stretching her face to the window and the sunlight filtering through the gaps in the curtain

“Tell her I said thanks and in my defence, he’d been undercover for a long while and seemed mostly harmless, creepy but harmless.” Grantaire retorted.

“You’ve always got to look out for the harmless ones.” She reminded him and then snapped her face in his direction, “God, this room is depressing, wanna bounce?”

“You’re my ride then?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Indeed I am.” She smiled, “Come on, let’s go get you debriefed and evaluated.”

 

-

 

“Enjolras, chill your tits or you’ll make a hole in the floor from all the pacing.” Éponine glared over at him, from where she was sat on the sofa next to Gavroche, Cosette and Bahorel (who was apparently, Éponine’s replacement bodyguard until Grantaire got better).

“They won’t be long.” Bahorel added, flipping the channel on the TV over. And though he looked the part of a bodyguard – i.e. he was a literal wall of muscle – but he wasn’t the same as Grantaire and Enjolras felt a pang of longing for him.

“Maybe half an hour, I think ‘Chetta was taking R for ice cream after his evaluation.” Cosette added as she swatted Bahorel on the head and grabbed the remote because she’d apparently been watching the channel he’d changed.

“A lot can happen in half an hour.” Enjolras countered and it was true, half an hour later and Grantaire could have been dead, half an hour earlier and Grantaire wouldn’t have been hurt at all. That thought had kept him up all night last night and now he looked shit because of it and Grantaire was coming home tonight and Enjolras just wanted him there. 

“True, but he’ll be safe – ‘Chetta is awesome, she’s a badass, she won’t let anything hurt him.” Bahorel piped up. 

“Is she as badass as you ‘Sette?” Gavroche asked from where he clicked the buttons on his DS – beat up to the point where it was literally held together with duct tape. Enjolras had decided he was going to buy him a new one for Christmas.

“More so.” Cosette told him, lowering her voice like it was a secret.

“Don’t encourage the hero-worship, Cosette, you know he’s been like this since you smashed that guy’s nose with your palm.” Éponine glanced at Enjolras and okay, yeah, that reassured him and the bodyguards could protect Grantaire better than he could, but Enjolras wanted him there, wanted to see him breathing, wanted to feel his heartbeat, wanted to make sure he was alive. 

“You used The Voldemort and you didn’t tell me?” Bahorel turned to her, his voice as whiny as Bahorel ever got, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“It was amazing.” Gavroche looked up at Enjolras, eyes sparkling like a cartoon character’s and Enjolras had to smile, well until Gavroche asked, “Can your boyfriend do that Enjy?”

Éponine’s laughter and then tears of laughter were a complete overreaction. So were Cosette’s. The traitors. He needed new friends. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Enjolras replied because it was true, but he wanted it to be false, wanted it to be false so badly. He could feel his face burn like the fucking sun and judging by the way Bahorel was shaking silently next to Éponine it wasn’t convincing at all. 

“Sure.” Gavroche raised his eyebrows and returned his eyes back to his DS like he hadn’t thrown Enjolras into a crisis or worry and panic. 

“Éponine.” Enjolras whined and she stop laughing almost immediately, looking at him properly and understanding what that tone meant. She sighed and gestured for him to sit in front of her. 

Cosette and Bahorel were still sniggering as he sat at Éponine’s feet, but then Gavroche moved beside him leaning on Enjolras as he played his game and it was an apology and comfort and it made Enjolras smile. Then he felt Éponine’s fingers in his hair as she braided it in the way she did when either of them got stressed or worried. He felt himself calm down a little, focused his eyes on the TV, on the bratty contestants on whatever American gameshow Cosette was hooked on. 

He felt his worry subside a little bit. 

 

-

 

He wasn’t surprised Musichetta had brought him to Enjolras’ apartment and he smiled at the memories as they both came to a stop outside of Enjolras’ door – Grantaire still had a key and he opened it quietly, slipping into the living room. The room was only lit by the muted TV, but there were lights on in the kitchen and hushed voices he knew belonged to Éponine and Cosette.

His eyes were drawn to Bahorel, sprawled out and fast asleep on the sofa, and then to Enjolras and Gavroche who were on the floor, Gavroche’s head on Enjolras lap, Enjolras’ hair braided, head tipped back as he slept. He smiled at the sight before slipping into the kitchen, Musichetta behind him.

“R!” Cosette threw herself into his arms and he hugged her close before pushing her back towards Éponine, who waved at him from behind her mug of hot chocolate.

“Excuse me, do I not exist or something?” Musichetta asked.

“Well, were you the one to get shot?” Grantaire raised an eyebrow at her and she stuck her tongue out in return. 

“It’s not something to be proud of.” Cosette slapped his arm gently as she whizzed past and then she was hugging Musichetta tightly. They looked like opposites, with Cosette so pale and straight blonde hair against Musichetta with her tan and her frizzy dark curls. But then broke apart and grinned before Cosette moved back to Éponine’s side.

“I’m happy you’re alright.” Éponine smiled at him.

“It was nothing, he missed the major arteries.” Grantaire grinned back.

“It didn’t look like he had.” And fuck, Enjolras’ voice was all gruff and rough from sleep and it was so hot. Grantaire turned and sure enough, his eyes were foggy with sleep, his braid was a little messed up and clothes rumpled but he looked as beautiful as ever.

“Enjolras.” Grantaire smiled and he finally felt like he was home, like glitter was exploding inside of him. What a fucking cliché. 

“Grantaire.” And Enjolras was beaming at him, his eyes crinkling and his mouth opening to show his perfect teeth and god, he was beautiful. 

“Well, I’m going to introduce ‘Chetta and ‘Ponine through there so you two can talk.” Cosette said but Grantaire only vaguely heard, his focus was on Enjolras. And then the girls had gone into the living room and it was just Grantaire and Enjolras. Beautiful, sleepy Enjolras. 

And then Enjolras was in front of him and Grantaire wrapped his arms around the blond’s neck and buried his face against his t-shirt and Enjolras clung onto him with equal amounts of desperation and need. Grantaire could feel the blond’s heart against his own, could smell his shampoo, could feel the heat Enjolras emitted. God, they hadn’t been apart long but Grantaire had missed him so much. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Grantaire, I’m so happy you’re okay.” Enjolras whispered and it was the first time they’d gotten together in a long while. At the hospital, just after he’d woken up, everyone else had visited whilst Enjolras sat silently beside him, never letting go of his hand and it had meant so much to have him there despite the argument. 

“I missed you and I’m sorry,” Grantaire said, pulling back to look Enjolras in his stupidly blue eyes, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about switching bodyguards, I’m sorry I didn’t ask your opinion and that I didn’t warn you, that I panicked, my last clien-”

“Éponine told me, I was freaking out because I didn’t want things to be bad between us if you, if you went – so she told me what you told her about Floréal.” Enjolras told him, “I’m so sorry you lost her, that you felt all the pain, but it wasn’t your fault. And I’m also sorry for yelling at you, for losing my anger and taking it out on you, for acting like a child and refusing to face you after I kissed you.”

“Don’t be sorry for kissing me.”

“I’m not, I could never be sorry for kissing you.” Enjolras answered, looking at Grantaire with such a sincerity it made Grantaire want to cry. And who did he have to impress really? Enjolras had seen him looped up on pain medicine, if that hadn’t ruined his ‘cool’ demeanour than it was a bloody miracle. 

“Good.” Grantaire answered, smiling up at the blond. 

“I was so scared when we found you R,” Enjolras ducked his head so his chin was resting on Grantaire’s shoulder, “because I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m here now Enjolras.” Grantaire replied, tightening his hold on the blond. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, you will because you’ll get another person to protect and you’ll leave me and I can’t, I don’t want to lose you, Grantaire, or any of the crazy people you’ve brought into my life.” Enjolras moved away from Grantaire, looking into his eyes, it was impossible to look away. “Grantaire, I want to spend every day with you, I want to share a bed and an apartment with you, I want you in my life as more than my bodyguard, I want to be able to kiss you and hold you and love you and have you by my side every step of our stories.”

“Enjolras-” Grantaire closed his eyes and took a deep breath because he wanted that, wanted all that and more. He could see a life with Enjolras and his friends, he could imagine it all, all the good and bad, all the experiences, the meetings and outings, the jokes and arguments, the parties and the feelings and the sense of belonging he’s never had before. And he wanted it, longed for it more than he’d ever longed for something before. “I want that all too.”

“But there’s no way we can have that, right?” and the desperation in Enjolras’ voice made him open his eyes, because it was wrong, Grantaire could do something about it, they could have everything they wanted. 

And he felt himself smile, Enjolras frowned but Grantaire just felt so giddy because yes, Cosette was right, “You know what, maybe, maybe there is.” 

“And how would you do that?” Enjolras asked, he looked hopeful, biting his lip, eyes bright. It was too cute. 

“Retire. Be trained by Cosette’s father maybe or get a normal job.” Grantaire told him, “Cosette mentioned it and I think she’s right. I don’t want to do my job much longer, I’ve had a rough run of it lately.”

“I’ll support you, whatever you decide.” Enjolras tightened his grip on Grantaire’s waist, before placing a soft kiss on his forehead. 

“I want this Enjolras, I want you and me.” Grantaire told him and he was certain, as certain as he was that the sky was blue and the grass green, as certain as he was that gravity kept him down, as certain as he was that Enjolras loved him. 

And he was most certain about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating sooner - I didn't want to and so I just didn't, I realised what a cliche this all is and tried to change it but then sometimes a cliche is good so I can hope for that. 
> 
> Thanks for reading though, I appreciate it.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm not a bodyguard and do not know a lot about what the job entails - other than seeing the film 'The Bodyguard'. I did some research but there isn't a lot on it for safety reasons, obviously. This means, I have made a lot up on an educated guess and should not be taken as gospel truth. 
> 
> Anyway, disclaimer over. I hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading.


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